


The dark before the dawn (the sun goes down)

by Holmesienne



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst mostly, Connor and RK900 as brothers, F/F, Gavin and Elijah were like a family, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Jericho Four are like family, M/M, POV Alternating, RK900 has trouble with his identity and feelings, Some action here and there too, Story in two parts, Such as Eights and Nines, Tags May Change, Temporal settings alternating, They use nicknames between them, but probably with a happy ending, even chapters are in the present, odd chapters are in the past, slowburn, until an accident came up, with big deviant android babies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holmesienne/pseuds/Holmesienne
Summary: "Beneath their skin and bones lies a story untold of open scars just trying to find a home."(Legacy at Heart - Razors).





	1. (2009) | These waves of emptiness keep crashing so deep inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! ♥
> 
> Thanks for cliking on the story, I hope you will like it!
> 
> I came up with this idea almost in one night and it was so exhausting to think about. Let alone writing it, eh. Anyway I'm super thrilled to write about D:BH because I loved the game and I absolutely adored reading some of the stories over there. So I'm taking the leap and this is the result for my jumping faith and crashing hopes.
> 
> If I'm correct, it will be a long story so hang on tight.
> 
> I'm slow af these days so I apologize for the delay between chapters. I'm hoping I will have one sorted out each week (or two weeks tops).
> 
> The title for this chapter is based on the song "Some Days" by Burn the Rez. Check it out if you want!
> 
> Now, enjoy :D
> 
> P.S. : No TW for this one but there will be in the future.  
> P.S.' : It's my first fanfiction in english and I'm bad at it.

[♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oigCBrj16w8)

 

_ Darkness before the dawn _

_ See me turning _

_ Tossing and turning _

_ Heartbreak has swallowed the sun _

_ No more love, no more love _

 

_ When it's gone, you can't hold on _

_ When it's gone, killing love _

 

_ Whispers define the dark _

_ The devil's playground _

_ Is pulling my heart _

_ Memories haunt the night _

_ Try to hold on, try to be free _

 

_ When it's gone, you can't hold on _

_ When it's gone, killing love _

 

* * *

 

 

It’s past midnight.

Darkness surrounds everything outside, hovering above the colorless landscape. A dull picture printed behind his eyelids. He blinks, his bright eyes shining in contrast of the dim light in the obscure room.

Leaning against the window, he sighs drearily. His short breath muffled into the heavy and hazy atmosphere. Mist form right against the surface of the glass, an opaque arabesque spreading and clouding the transparent texture.

He’s alone. Alone with his deafening thoughts.

In the background of his brumous mind, he can make out some whispers he has heard from other orphans. From today, from the past. He can’t ignore it. Can’t forget it. Because these memories keep repeating themselves in a loop and it’s slowly dephasing him. Destroying him.

It’s tearing him apart. 

He doesn’t like it in here. He doesn’t feel at home. He’s not.

He’s lonely.

Broken from the loss of his dead parents. Shaken by their absence. The sorrow is gnawing more and more as he finally understands that he’s by himself now. He’s on his own and no one will ever come for him. No one will bring him back.

So he stays still. Doesn’t speak or respond to anyone. He doesn’t touch anything and barely eats. Doesn’t reach for the affection he’s lacking. He stands by himself and avoids everyone trying to come his way.

Others are all the same to him and he doesn’t want to be like them. Everyday, he feels like he’s the only one not belonging in this place. At this point, this is just him against the rest of the world.

All of the time.

Tilting his head, he lets his skull lean on the thin window. His gaze hover across the dark veil of the night above. Clouds evaporate and a ray of dim light suddenly bathes his hauled features. His lips part and a silent murmur escapes his throat as he looks up to the sky where a lustrous light is irradiating at the moment.

The moon is the only light he sees.

And he can’t take it no more.

Lungs crushed and heart broken, his tears are falling from his misty eyes. Catching the spark of the bright and distant stars painting the firmament. He closes his eyelids, lips trembling, hands shaking. Soul forsaken, spirit shattered. His being drifting into the nothingness.

By now, he inevitably knows that tomorrow will be exactly the same. Again and again. 

Oh but he doesn’t realize how wrong he is.

 

**. . .**

 

It’s sunny outside.

Not a single cloud in sight and the warmth of the sun spreading all around brushes his arms in a fondle hug. Rays of light are soothing against him as they heat his cold skin from the night before. Even though the weather is great he can’t help but shudder at the contrast between the air and his core temperature.

Lifting his hand, he places it right above his eyebrows, focusing his attention to the sky. Iridescent eyes trailing over the brightest tone of color the blue painting the veil has to offer. 

His thoughts linger but he can still hear the little noises around him. The ruffling of clothes, the rustling of the wind, the muffled screams of children playing in the backyard. They are all friends in this house and he’s the only exception. The only one sitting by the porch, when everyone else is celebrating the anniversary of birthday boy Leigh Manfred.

A guy from his class that he doesn’t appreciate that much.

But at least he’s out of the orphanage for the time being and he will spent every lasting second of it to breathe again. Every lasting beat of it to feel free again.

One of the kids shouts something in his direction and he’s turned away from his mind. Looking at the young boy who’s grinning evilly at him. His finger points toward him as his hand closes sharply. The boy mocks him.

“You’re a freak!” he yells. “No one likes you in here, Gavin.”

Something in him snaps and he’s suddenly suffocating. A lump in his throat as he has difficulties breathing. His gaze is unfocused, a blur passing ahead of his eyes, and his body freeze for a moment before he’s taking back control. Grasping his grip over the reality.

Back on his feet in no time he bursts out of the yard. The door swings open as he gets inside to find a shelter. It slams right behind him when he entered the home. The ensuing sound echoing right through his being afterwards makes his body shiver.

Moving forward without any direction in mind, Gavin ends up opening some doors haphazardly before eventually stopping into some sort of studio. Tools, brushes and paints lay around the workshop and canvas are catching his eyes from where he’s standing. Some of them are blank, others are covered in paint. Hatched motions depicted with a myriad of colors into structured patterns.

Throat constricted, he approaches carefully and almost solemnly one of the painting with his lips parted and his breath hitching, a heavy weight lifted from his ribcage. He stills in front of the artwork, eyes darting back and forth as he contemplates this admixture of colors.

Honestly he doesn’t give a damn about art.

But right now it helps keeping him away from his crushing thoughts running around in his muddled mind.

Gavin loses track of time, wandering around in the atelier, impregnating himself with these pictures hanging from the ceiling and brushing against walls made of glass. For once the whispers are muffled and even if he feels like he’s still imprisoned, he’s somehow free from these piercing tones. No more inner voices or internal noises to bother him and this kind of absence is a sensation so foreign for him.

The silence surrounding him is almost deafening to his ears.

The longer he stays here, the longer he thinks he’s saved from everyone. Spared from the unceasing yellings and howlings coming from the children playing outside. He feels safe like this.

Alone.

But he is not.

At all.

He doesn’t notice the shadow hiding behind some easels, trestles and racks. Sitting quietly in a corner, a notebook and a pencil in hand, and surrounded by the mess of tools and paint cans. A pair of bright blue eyes, clear as translucent lagoon water, following his every move. 

A subtle noise echoes in the comfortable silence, a rustling of clothes when the shadow starts leaning on one side. Capturing the attention of the other being in the room.

Startled by the sound, Gavin reaches back to reality by regaining control over his mind abruptly. His body following his will in a reflex, a quick reaction as he moves in the blink of an eye.

He turns around and sees the form of another young boy.

But as soon as he does so the figure sits upright. Remaining impassive and composed when the outline of his shape straightens and his body stills like static. 

They both fall silent.

An erratic breath in his throat makes his lungs burn from the inside as his heartbeats pound heavily into the hollow of his ribcage. A bittersweet feeling heating his insides, setting his chest ablaze.

He can’t speak, can’t move anymore. Can’t do anything but just stares at the other boy who returns his attention in his notebook. Ignoring him and proceeding his previous activity.

At least that’s what Gavin thinks he’s doing while he freezes for some time.

A sharp breath escapes his lips eventually and he finds himself starting to relax about a minute after his snag. The more time passes the more he perceives the other one harmless for his sake. He almost seems distant and apart from everything. From everyone, just like him. And the realization strikes him.

Despite the sting in his chest he feels a bit more reassured than before. Comforted by the appeasing silence surrounding them he resumes exploring the studio with a more confident look.

Approaching more and more the other boy by doing so.

He ends up behind him without even remembering getting there in the first place. His eyes carefully scrutinizing the young child, taking in his leaning body while he scribbles some patterns on the paper. 

Curiosity picks over his weakened distress and he tilts his head in the direction of the other boy.

The latter seems to notice because he’s suddenly stopping everything. Eyes darting behind himself and looking over his shoulder. He’s looking right at Gavin, from the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t move anymore and stills as the other examines him, gaze so scrutinizing he’s almost studying him.

Only when the boy goes for his notebook again does Gavin lets a hitched noise escape from his parted lips. He hasn’t even realized he has held his breath since then.

Before he can think of something else, like retreating in another room or moving around, a piece of paper is laying by his feet. Page blackened by the graphite of the pencil in darkened arabesques contrasting with the white texture of the sheet.

Words forming themselves in a short sentence when Gavin squints his eyes and reads these letters assembled into a simple query.

_ _ Are you lost?  _

He blinks and tilts his head to the side while setting his eyes on the young boy. He does acknowledge his presence and has some kind of decency as he asks him this. Deep down requesting if he requires some direction advice while between the lines assuming Gavin needs help returning to the party.

But right now he just wants to stay alone. Or at least somewhere silent enough where he can stop thinking and keep muting the muffled whispers haunting his befuddled mind.

Another note is slipped in his direction.

_ _ Or looking for something? _

Gavin can feel the gaze of the other boy lingering on him so he just braces himself and shakes his head instead of answering with his voice. Voice that he can’t even use right now because of the lump reforming in his throat due to the attention focusing only on him.

Trembling slightly under the scrutinizing stare he closes his eyelids and to maintain some of his composure he keeps breathing through the nose in an erratic manner. In and out. 

The sound of a paper brushing against his ankle makes him open his eyes again.

_ _ Are you feeling alright? _

He blinks and swallows the weight in his throat slowly before lifting his head again. Grey eyes like thunder diving into blue irises as clear as crystal. Burst of colors flaming all around them and at this right moment, something in him is shattering in a myriad of fragments as they imbue of one another.

Time stops as Gavin stares into the other boy soul through his open eyes. 

The other one does the same with extreme caution and genuine care.

His insecurities are resurfacing and make him shiver while his worries haunt his buzzing mind once and again. Thoughts and whispers to loud to listen to the comfortable silence settling between them. 

Even then neither of them dare to tear themselves away from the exchange.

A short and cut sound of a breath escapes his parted lips and he shuts them abruptly, quivering because of his impetuous reaction. A hand covering his mouth sharply to suppress this embarrassing noise he has just made.

Gavin’s eyes widen suddenly but the other one just raises his eyebrows in amusement. A thin smile stretching his lips and making his features soften.

He then proceeds to move his hands into specific patterns, his fingers curling and forming structured shapes.

The boy is signing.

Except Gavin doesn’t seem to understand so the other one just shrugs and shakes his head before going to his notebook again and scrabbling something into it. Gavin leans forward and tries to watch what he is doing but before he can even lay his eyes on the sheet, a piece of paper is given to him.

Handed this time.

The other boy has just lifted himself so he can face him and this simple gesture has Gavin beaming. Relaxing into this quiet and silent exchange for once in his life.

He takes the note.

_ _ I was signing. I asked if you were mute. _

Gavin shakes his head, disproving and feeling a bit sheepish. But he doesn’t have time to steep on it, because another note slips in front of him.

_ _ I assume you just do not want to talk then. Is that correct? _

Gavin nods and swallows sharply before locking eyes with the other boy again. Curious about his behavior and this ongoing silent conversation between them. It’s special, but also new and somehow refreshing in a sense.

Another note is given to him.

_ _ You don’t have to. _

And another one.

_ _ Talk, I mean. _

And a lot more afterwards.

_ _ Or respond for that matter. _

_ _ To anyone. _

_ _ Especially not to these noisy dummies outside. _

_ _ You can stay here if you want and enjoy the silence.  _

_ _ If you do not feel like it, just know you are not obliged to do it at all. _

_ _ But I have appreciate your quiet presence so far so it is your decision to make. _

Gavin just stands still and incredulous, his body aching for staying like this for this long. He feels lighter as the past sorrow he has been bearing is finally released, a weight taken off his bare soul.

He reads the notes again and again, his mind raging and thoughts crushing into his skull. A spark gushes in the hollow of his ribcage, a heat burning his chest in a soft caress. 

He feels normal.

Just this once.

And it’s enough to make him happy at least.

So he accepts the offer, smiling frantically at the other boy. A glow is originated from him as his lips stretch more and more ardently. His face so pure with content. He is radiant.

The other one is grinning too and a light is sparkling in his eyes. He seems to radiate too. And it’s beautiful. Perfect. 

He scribbles something else and gives directly the notebook and the pencil to Gavin who takes it without restreint. Smile still lingering on his lips as he reads and clasps his fingers more firmly on the texture of the graphite.

_ _ What is your name? _

He answers with honesty.

**__ Gavin. You?_ **

Returning the notebook and the pencil, he busies himself with the sleeve of his hoodie. Chewing on his lips to pass time while waiting for the other one to entrust him with his first name. His eyes so curious to land on the paper, he forces himself to look everywhere else around them. 

Eventually, the other boy holds out a note, darkened by the black letters and contrasting with the white of the paper. 

_ _ Elijah. _

**. . .**

 

 

Time flies by and neither of them seem to notice.

 

To focus on the other.

 

The lines of their exchange darken all of Elijah’s notebook pages with their contrasting handwritings when rays of the sunset get into the studio through one of the large window. Bathing them with a pastel halo illuminating the outlines of their shapes.

 

A light sparks in Elijah’s eyes when a ray catches his gleaming irises.

 

_ _ Try guessing this one. _

 

He proceeds to sign a word, short and cut, and Gavin squints his eyes, brain working to understand what the other is telling.

 

They were at it since a few hours now and the young orphan had learn some words since then. Simple one for starter, and he feels quite satisfied to have another way of exchanging without having to use his voice. He has to admit though, that he has difficulties to remember such precise moves for impressive and rich vocabulary.

 

But at least, he can concentrate on another task and forget about his troubles for some time.

 

Gavin sighs through his parted lips and tilts his head to the side, pouting. Elijah just chuckles in return before explaining, writing into a blank space in the paper.

 

_ _ This means “again”. _

 

The orphan nods and a thin smile extends on his lips as he assimilates the move and the meaning together. 

 

While doing so, the door to the studio is open wide, tearing them both away from their interaction when another person walks in. Heartbeats stopped abruptly and his complicity flickering, Gavin stares at the woman that has entered. 

 

She’s smiling softly, a bright sheen sparkling in her eyes.

 

Elijah smiles at her too, something fond emanating from him. Quite the opposite of his accomplice right by his side whose serenity is now tarnished as he’s frozen in place.

 

Much to his surprise, the woman stars signing too, a cheerful expression on her features. Quick moves and fast motions Gavin couldn’t even dare to understand. He’s lost after the third gesture.

 

Glancing back at Elijah, he’s blown away as the young boy answers with his hands. His movements not as fast, but riddled with fluency and easiness. At this right moment, Gavin understands something.

 

Elijah is used to this.

 

To this person, to this situation, to this exchange.

 

While they sign, the orphan corrals his legs in his arms, bringing them against his chest. Placing his chin at the top of his knees, silently gazing between the two.

 

Now that he is paying attention, there’s something here he can see. Grasping the similarities in their eyes, their dark hair, their pale complexion, their features and their smiles that look exactly alike. 

 

They are family.

 

Gavin feels his chest constrict for a beat, heart tightening at the thought. He doesn’t see that soon after, Elijah turns his head in his direction and notices his distress.

 

The silence surrounding them is suddenly broken.

 

“Hey…” the other boy whispers slowly, voice smooth and smile soft.

 

Gently capturing his attention, his hand hovers above Gavin’s shoulder, almost touching when the orphan looks up to him. Eyes a bit tarnished, seeming lost and broken. A glint of hope hidden deep down.

 

“Are you alright?” he asks with caution, caring. 

 

His hand stays over his shoulder, not dearing to cross a line. But his smile is so pure and encouraging that Gavin closes the gap between them cautiously and slowly until they collide.

 

Elijah’s palm is warm and his touch is firm.

 

Anchoring.

 

So he tries.

 

“Yeah…” Gavin responds, voice raspy and hatched.

 

Elijah smile is so bright it dazzles him.

 

“Okay.” he murmurs fondly.

  
  


**. . .**

 

It’s warm outside. 

 

Heat brushes against his epiderm, fondling his nape right after he leaves the tepid shadow of a deciduous tree. Leaving a reassuring hold on his skin as he walks on the pavement. The pressure somehow guiding him until he reaches his destination.

 

He feels a bit anxious about this as the memories of the day keep resurfacing.

 

It has been about at least one week Leigh hadn’t come to school. And when one of the teacher has asked who wants to reach for him and give him his homeworks, Gavin has just raised his hand before he could even think twice about it.

 

On second thought, he’s not so sure he should have done this but here he is anyway, and it’s too late to back down. If luck is on his side, maybe everything will be over soon so he can come back to the orphanage in no time. 

 

And just be alone again.

 

He stops by the porch of the mansion. 

 

Swallowing the lump in his throat and ignoring his heart crushing against his bones, Gavin rings the bell and waits for someone to let him in. 

 

A sound disrupts the silence surrounding him when someone open the door, revealing the spacious and gracely decorated lobby. Outlines of a shape contrasting with the design inside.

 

Leigh’s father, he assumes.

 

The orphan looks up to the shadow who’s surprised but politely smiling down at him.

 

“Hey there. You’re here for Leigh? One of his classmate?” he asks gently with a comforting voice.

 

Gavin nods and starts to move to retrieve Leigh’s homeworks from his bag.

 

“I-I came to give him his homeworks... and some notes about our lessons.” Gavin mumbles while handing them to the man standing in front of him.

 

“Oh, great! Thank you.” He says, grabbing them smoothly. Then his faces twists as his lips pursed and he sighs. “Sorry, he’s been sick the past few days, I couldn’t let anyone near him because of this. Let alone letting him go to school.” He then smiles again. “But he’s better now. So if you want to come inside and say hi, you…”

 

He’s interrupted by another voice.

 

A voice Gavin knows well.

 

“Carl? I can’t figure out how to…”

 

The voice stops as his owner’s outlines are cut from the setting behind him. White clothes covered in paint, melting in the colored background. Some stains tint his hair despite them being tied into a bun.

 

Elijah’s here.

 

“... Gavin?”

 

He’s surprised to see Gavin but smiles all the same to him. Gavin is suddenly happy to see him there. He smiles back and signs his greetings.

 

“Hi.”

 

The man -Carl then- raises his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side. Looking between the two of them, grinning to each other like long lost friends. He chuckles a bit and glances at Elijah, catching his attention and signing with him for about some ten solid seconds before deciding to wave Gavin to come inside.

 

“Come in, I’ll make you some snack. You can stay with us for some time.”

 

Carl heads to the kitchen as Elijah shuts the door behind Gavin. Giggling and leaning in his direction, asking if it’s still okay to make contact while the orphan beams with exhilaration. His past disarray forgotten as he appreciates the presence of the other boy.

 

It’s like Elijah is some kind of a remedy all by himself.

 

He’s a warmth soothing him when he’s cold inside, a light guiding him when it’s dark outside. He’s everything the orphan is not in one single person. The kind of people Gavin desperately needs in his life. 

 

At this right moment, the hand tightening on his arm is the only support he gets. Yet, it’s enough for him and truly the only one he needs. 

 

Elijah drags him down the hall, his fingers clutching at Gavin’s skin while they arrive in the living room. Elijah doesn’t slow down and heads straight to the studio they were lurking in some days prior.

 

The door swings open as the boys enter the workshop. They are going forward and deeper into the room illuminated by the rays of the sun already going down. Light passing through the transparent and thick glass, brightening the space until Elijah stops in front of a painting. 

 

The orphan doesn’t know what to think of it.

 

Gavin can’t help but squint, lips pinched as he gets impregnated by the strange feeling arising out of the canvas. He scrutinizes it as Elijah’s already grabbing a brush and dipping it in a paint can by the easel. Applying the soaked instrument on the colored surface, making wide and frantic moves to cover more area.

 

Elijah drops the brush, aiming for another one. Fingers constricting against the texture of the wood as he soaks this one too into the mixture of colors on the palette. Raising his hand afterwards and painting minuscule patterns in a darker shade.

 

He then steps back and tilts his head to the side. Tongue darting out of his lips, brows furrowed and his breath a little bit hatched while his chest is rising and falling abruptly. 

 

He contemplates his work.

 

The door is open again, breaking the silence around them with a soft sound as Carl comes in with two plates. Handing one to Gavin with a soft smile. The orphan whispers his thanks but doesn’t touch the food just yet. He waits for Elijah to get his but all the dark haired boy can concentrate on is the canvas. 

 

“Elijah.” Carl calls smoothly, capturing his attention.

 

Elijah tears himself away from his thoughts and blinks as he emerges from his brumous mind. Lips parted when his hazy stare focus on the snack. He shakes his head and drops the soaked brush before taking the plate.

 

“Oh, thank you Carl.”

 

But before Elijah can even eat, he leans his weight on his leg, hand on his hip as he points to the canvas with a tilt of his chin. Gavin and Carl turn toward the painting, eyeing his artwork with different emotions. Sensations spreading on his epiderm and pouring out under his skin.

 

“I’m not satisfied.” Sighs Elijah in a heavy breath as his tongue clicks on his delicate palate. “It doesn’t seem as vibrant as I would have wanted it to be.” His fingers are trembling against the fabric of his clothes while his voice etches with uncertainty. “It’s not animated. Doesn’t feel alive.”

 

Carl crosses his arms on his chest and proceeds to explain what he has in mind. Expressing himself through his passionate speech with beautiful metaphors. Adding solid points about his skills and strong remarks about his style. 

 

That doesn’t seem to appease the young boy’s turmoil. 

 

Gavin feels a bit set aside, looking at the two shadows in front of him arguing about the art depicted on the canvas, the choice of colors, the dark shapes and blank aeras. 

 

Eventually, Gavin’s eyes are darting on the painting as his head is tilting to the side. His features stretches into a skeptical expression as his voice raises into the studio, crashing against walls made of glass.

 

He still doesn’t get a damn about art.

 

But he finds this so funny to look at. 

 

“Of course it can’t be alive.” Gavin says snobbishly. “It’s a damn painting.”

 

Elijah’s glaring at him, eyes thunderous and mouth agape. He feels purely betrayed, stabbed in the back by a person he once trusted.

 

“How dare you?!” He asks hurriedly, gasping while turning in his direction, his back toward his previous matter of concern.

 

But all Gavin does is smile like an arrogant and petulant person. His pretentious grin is making his face burst with smug. And then he’s laughing his head off, radiating with euphory. Enjoying this moment too much.

 

Carl chuckles at that.

 

And Elijah can’t be mad anymore.

 

He laughs too.

 

**. . .**

 

 

The sun is setting slowly, and its light is painting the studio with soft colors all around the outlines of the two boys sitting peacefully past a canvas. With their shadows hovering on the painting, they almost look like they are the shapes depicted on it. Two dark stains with bright orange and pink tones surrounding them.

 

Gavin his smiling, eyes contemplating the drawing and the colors in front of him.

 

Thinking that this is his life now.

 

The life he had choose to live.

 

He’s ripped from his thoughts when a sharp noise echoes through the mansion, disturbing the comfortable silence in the room.

 

His heart is beating too fast in the hollow of his ribcage, the sound muffled in his chest in pace with the ringing. The blood rushes in his head, knocking strongly against his temples. The sensation is making him dizzy and soon the noise is gone but leaves a deafening humming in his ears.

 

The doorbell has ringed and this only means one thing.

 

Their time is up.

 

“I have to go.”

 

A soft sigh escapes Elijah’s lips as he tilts his head, eyes unfocused. He is almost lost in thoughts and seems sad the day is already over.

 

Gavin turns toward him, chewing his lips as his features stretched into a pout.

 

He understands Elijah has to go home at some point. He has to go too, even though he doesn’t want to get back to the orphanage right now. He was having so much fun for once and he just wanted to stay here with Elijah some more.

 

Playing, painting, laughing.

 

But time catches up to them eventually. 

 

And he can’t help feeling a bit afflicted by that.  

 

Elijah stands up and his shadow grows bigger on the canvas, darkening some areas covered by fervent brushstrokes. He’s gazing at the patterns but seems to see through the painting as if he has been somewhere else.

 

“Come with me?” Elijah whispers to the orphan, his voice so torn.

 

Gavin doesn’t lost any time and stands too, following Elijah and exiting the studio. Tongue heavy in his dry mouth as the lump in his throat gets harder to swallow with each step away from the room. From the shelter he already misses.

 

They arrive in the lobby and the front door is already open. The woman from last time in the embrasure. She is smiling at him. At them.

 

Elijah giggles before the orphan, stopping by the doorway. He signs to her as Carl comes from the living room with the young boy belongings. Handing them to the woman with a bright smile. He proceeds to sign too and Gavin is lost between the three of them, all with quick moves and sharp motions.

 

The woman nods and Elijah’s grinning with purity.

 

He turns to Gavin as Carl gets back inside, leaving them on the porch. Elijah gets closer to him and lifts his hand, silently asking once again with his pleading eyes. Gavin nods and the other boy is then patting the orphan’s shoulder with it in a gentle touch full of promises.

 

“I will be back here next week. If you want to come over so we could have fun together again...” Elijah sounds unsure, as if he is showing some kind of weakness. A gleam in his eyes, shining with brightness, expressing his deeper will. “Please do.”

 

Gavin’s lips stretch themselves into a toothy smile.

 

He’s so happy.

 

So he nods.

 

“I will.”

 

He still has to find a way to come here, but he will be there next time.

 

For Elijah and mostly for himself.

 

The other boy’s smile brighten up the already well-lit hall. So much light in one place has the both of them being radiant with happiness. A shining glint in their sparkling eyes.

 

Elijah steps back a bit and motion towards the woman waiting outside.

 

“This is my mother.”

 

A soft silence wraps around him as Gavin lift his gaze until he mets hers. Her irises are bright and her smile glaring. He can’t help but feels scrutinize under the spotlight of her shining stare.

 

He needs to breath but he can’t. Because the feeling of not belonging is suddenly there again. Hitting him hard as it gnaws at his insides. Tightening in his chest, clenching his entrails, clutching his lungs. He’s compressed inside the prison of his own body.

 

The only shelter he ever had.

 

“She signed before, about you.” he says nonchalantly, unaware of Gavin’s trouble. “Shared her thoughts with me, concerning you.” 

 

Gavin is certain he’s about to collapse under the strength of his dread.

 

“She thinks you seem nice.”

 

He’s frozen in place.

 

Surprised by the share. Shocked almost by the news. Lips parted, mouth agape, eyes wide open, being startled. His breath catching in his throat, burning the lump residing in here. Heart pumping against his chest, blood rushing in his face. Reddening his cheeks.

 

Time stops as the realization hits him, too close to home but all in the right places.

 

The heavy weight is lifted from him while he exhales sharply and he is relaxing next to Elijah in a matter of second. Strangely feeling more serene, soothed by the silence around them only disrupted by the friction of clothes against skin as the other boy walks away towards his mother.

 

The one with whom he’s going home to.

 

Elijah turns one last time and waves at him. His mother waves too. They both wear genuine smiles, their faces as resplendent as the sun. 

 

They are beaming, and so is Gavin.

 

Something he has never thought he would ever feel again starts to revive in him. A fire igniting onto the ember of the ashes from his burned feelings and carbonized memories.

 

He feels appreciated. More importantly, he feels accepted. And right now, he’s at peace with himself. Almost like back then.

 

At home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've survived through this, I'm proud of you.
> 
> Just to clarify things, Leigh is Leo's older brother for the sake of this story. Elijah's mom is an old and close friend of Carl and they knew each other in college. She's mute since ages so that's why her son knows how to sign.
> 
> Now we can talk.
> 
> So if you found typos or grammatical errors and such, feel free to let me know. And if you have anything special you want to say at all just hit me up!
> 
> Next time, we'll be heading to 2038, right at the end of the revolution.
> 
> See you then :D


	2. (2038) | Where does the mind go when the lights turn low

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!
> 
> I couldn't have waited until 2038 to post this chapter so it aired sooner than originally planned... ( Okay, I'll get lost, sorry D: )
> 
> I wanted to thank you all for your comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions, it means a lot to me and they have melted my heart ~
> 
> Here's the second chapter that is set in our future, but the protagonists present. Well, it's a bit wibbly wobbly timey wimey... complicated. Anyway, I hope you will enjoy the alternate time settings, because it will be this way until the end of the story :)
> 
> This chapter starts at the very end of the pacific revolution.
> 
> This week's title is based on the song "When the lights turn low" by Patternist. Go check it out if you want!
> 
> P.S. : A little TW for self-deprecating + depression mentionned and depicted in Connor's section (4th).  
> P.S.' : It's still my first fanfiction in english and I'm still bad at it.

The moon is high in the sky.

 

Bright luminary painting the firmament with its lustrous pastel grey light. Bursts of stars decorating the dark veil above. Radiant white points scattered in the celestial vault.

 

Atmosphere heavy as the wind blows harshly into the obscurity. Pale city lights contrasting with the landscape darkened by the cold night.

 

A light is lit inside an apartment.

 

The silence hovering around the room is deafening, but only disrupted by an irregular breathing. Sharp and cut grunts escape parted lips as the shadow’s eyes trail over the expose letters on the floor.

 

White and blank envelopes except from the thin and neatly scripture decorating the rough paper. Designating the name he was given.

 

_Gavin Reed._

 

He coils up tighter into the warm embrace of the blanket. His fingers curling around the texture against his hand, knuckles turning white under the pressure exerted. Nails digging into his palm, scratching the raw skin.

 

Anger spreads deep inside him and hits hard on his entrails.

 

It’s making him shake right into his core.

 

Gavin’s lungs are crushed inside his chest, his heart exploding into a myriad of fragments against his ribcage. Throat compressed by the lump constricting his airways, his tongue is then heavier in his dry mouth. Lips shut hard as his teeth bite the inner of his cheeks, making the hollow of his jaws emphasize.

 

Cold eyes devoid of gleam staring at the heap of paper covering his sheets. Irises shooting dagger at the unopened envelopes taunting him to just be read.

 

But he can’t bring himself to do it.

 

He has done it once. Back then, when it has all started two years ago.

 

He has been going home after a long and tiring day of work wanting nothing more than just crash on his bed and sleep through the night. But he has stopped dead on his tracks when finding an envelope in his doorstep.

 

He has never received any kind of personal letter in his life. Except once, from someone that lives in his past. Period he just would want to forget so bad.

 

He has picked the letter and opened it only to still abruptly when recognizing the handwriting.

 

Hands shaking and body frozen in place as his eyes has obscured with a hazy veil, his mind however has wandered into dangerous and hurting memories he has not been able to escape that night. He has cried while collapsing against the texture of the door.

 

Since then, he has not opened another envelope.

 

Frighten and angry every time he has received one, he just has thrown them away somewhere in his wardrobe. Without even once looking back at them.

 

But tonight, Gavin glares at the unopened envelopes for the first time in ages.

 

Because he can’t fall asleep.

 

And the fact it’s been three weeks he hasn’t got any more of these letters doesn’t help him at all to keep a clear head and a sharp mind. When everything around him is changing and as his world is collapsing right under his being.

 

Truth is, he has been used to this.

 

To come home and find these envelopes from time to time. Always once a week but never the same day. This has been an anchor to him, making his grip over reality firmer to keep him right above the surface of his own drowning emotions. Even though he doesn’t acknowledge it.

  
Now it’s over.

 

And he feels like he will fall hard in the abyss again and drown himself deep into the naught.  Until he's finally set free by the cold embrace and intangible touch of death.

 

Experiencing this sensation anew has him on edge.

 

“Phck!”

 

Gavin grits his teeth brusquely and is abruptly lifting himself up, blanket left behind in the corner on the floor. He reaches the bed hurriedly and throws every envelopes inside the box with furious motions and brisk gestures.

 

He closes it hard.

 

And harshly discards the box into his armoire.

 

He ends up on the balcony, smoking half a pack of cigarettes to appease his boiling blood that keeps pressuring onto his temples. Without a care in the world for the thin layer of clothes he’s wearing as it has started snowing in the cold hard and dark night.

  


. . .

 

An echo resonates in the silence.

 

The sound reverberates as the round shaped ice tinkles against the slick texture of the glass. Flowing inside an amber colored liquid, strong in flavor and with high alcohol percentage.

 

Bare feet treading against the marble of the floor are making muffled noise while approaching the shadow sitting in the black armchair. A halo of light encircles the outlines of the silhouette, carving the shape from the landscape.

 

Head tilted backward with black strands of hair framing his features, Elijah hums when Chloe stops by his side without a word. He watches the screen in front of him, eyes sparkling and imbue with contentment.

 

The TV is on and the channel broadcasts the only program available on every stations. The news about the event of tonight. The night of the android revolution.

 

And they have won.

 

Elijah’s lips stretch a bit and a smile ornaments his face. Highlighting his strong and sharp features. He lets a slight breath escapes his throat and laughs sardonically while tilting his face on the side.

 

His voice is hoarse and low as it raises above them, cutting through the atmosphere.

 

“Well...” He sighs. “Against all odds, there’s a situation that hasn't gone awry on my lifetime.” A wistful breath escapes his lips as he whispers quietly. “Who’d have thought…”

 

He lifts his glass, the ice tinkling the texture, and grazes his lips over the rim. Savouring the strong fragrance slithering on his tingly tongue and burning his sore throat.

 

Chloe smiles by his side, hands crossed behind her back when she turns toward him. An amused tone dwelling into her voice as she laughs slightly.

 

“For now, at least.”

 

Elijah snorts and a sharp breath escapes his parted lips. His numb tongue reaches over the skin around his mouth and on the inside of his anesthetized cheeks. The salt of his epidermis melting under the onslaught of the bitter alcohol.

 

“Yeah, you’re right.”

 

Teeth graze his bottom lip and as he chews on the texture, Elijah’s hand sways. The amber colored liquid twirling and the ice brushing against the glass.

 

He exhales sharply.

 

The echo spreads all around, reverberating through the air as his breath crushes against the glass walls of his home.

 

“Who knows what will happen afterward.”

 

He mutters as his tongue clicks on his palate. Breath catching on his constricting throat while his lungs burn under the sensation building inside of him. Emotion raising from the ashes of his past fears.

 

His memories resurfacing from the pit of his hazy mind and haunting him wide awake as he keeps trying to avoid them. To not drown himself under their destructive impact weighing on him. Damages are already done but still their influence linger.

 

His voice is tinged with anger when he dares to speak again.

 

“Implications and disturbances will extend with Cyberlife still being around and controlling stores and warehouses.” His fingers clutch around the cold texture of the glass, pads going white under the pressure. “There will be consequences in the future and next thing we know, there might be another issue going on.”

 

Chloe estimates Elijah’s prediction silently.

 

She stands there without speaking, processing and checking while simultaneously listening to the man grumbling to himself.

 

She hears his being going wild in his own body. The beating of his organ knocking hard against his ribcage. The blood pounding on his temples.

 

And what is scattering outside. The way his fingers scrape the glass he’s holding. His muscles trembling. All that because he's restraining himself so much.

  
She hears everything.

 

And it’s too loud she can almost discern his thoughts.

 

“Actually, they are evacuating all compounds and buildings as we speak.”

 

Elijah’s hand stills. His whole body frozen in place, being rigid and muscles stiff. His gaze becomes stern and his features stretch with a severe expression.

 

Time seems to stop as his mind wanders.

 

He contemplates.

 

“Oh.” Elijah says. “So, there’s still something we can do about it.”

 

The man nods absently to himself, lost in his own bursting thoughts.

 

He lifts his hand and empties the glass in one gulp. Swallowing the burning alcohol that tugs his tongue and pulls at his throat as the back of his other hand wipes his perfumed lips.

 

“We have work to do, then, and so do they.”

 

He gestures toward the screen where an android is seen helping one of his own to get up from the snowy and dusty ground. Various sequences of tonight’s revolution is showing on the television afterward.

 

They watch in a ponderous silence, the only noise being the comments of the presenter echoing through the large and dark room.

 

Elijah sighs.

 

“Let’s just hope things will settle while there’s still time.”

 

. . .

 

The snow sprinkles the landscape with its glowing white flakes.

 

Structured patterns constituting their shapes are made blunt as they melt on the ground after being gently deposited there. Or against artificial skin as white as the flakes evaporating around the place and between defined outlines of synthetical silhouettes.

 

Androids are standing outside the fifth recall center, all gathering in front of a large yellow container. On top of which leaders of the revolution are clustered together. The four of them plus a single another individual android that is quite iconic at the moment.

 

The very notorious deviant hunter himself, in the plastic and thirium, has joined the side of androids. Of his own people. Despite everything else.

 

And he has brought a substantial proportion of their people with him after leaving Cyberlife Tower. He has sent them free from their programming, from humans expectations, from themselves.

 

But the one he truly frees in the process is himself.

 

And now they all are free.

 

From everything.

 

“We are alive!”

 

Markus contemplates the androids bundled before him. He takes in all their differences and their similarities as they stand there into the snowy night. They look back at him with radiant sparkles in their glowing eyes.

 

All he can see there, is that they’re finally free.

 

“And now…”

 

The leader approaches the edge with a slow and measured pace. His silence impregnating the atmosphere tensing around them. He stops right at the brim.

 

His irises linger at each one of the androids.

 

Full of promises.

 

“... we are free!” He exclaims with fierceness and determination.

 

Loud shouts are echoing through the night, permeated with pride and happiness. So much joy pouring out of them it makes their pump vibrate inside their frames and against their plastic outlines.

 

All of their emotions flowing between everyone of them as their artificial skins are retracting. Revealing the white shells beneath while they’re throwing themselves at one another.

 

Hugging and laughing.

 

Alive.

 

Markus closes his eyes and slowly and warily lifts his hands with a precise motion, palms turned toward the dark sky. His fingers are slightly curved, his nails grazing at his skin for a solid second before he retracts the artificial epidermis.

 

Revealing his own shell for everyone to see. Laying himself bare at his people. Showing his true emotions to them.

 

His being is shaking right into his core as he opens the gate for his soul to flows toward all of the androids. All of him to all of them.

 

His haunting memories, his strong insecurities, his darkest fears.

 

But he shows something else too. Something worth fighting for.

 

His never-ending hopes, his intangible affections, his purest thoughts.

 

He lets them know everything about him. From his past life to his new one. The one he chooses to live. Everything he has been through to get where he’s standing. What he has had to do to lead their people toward victory and freedom.

 

And most importantly, Markus conveys what he’s feeling, right here and right now. He reaches their alive souls and hugs their very living beings with his affection. Cuddling at their oh so beautiful awaken spirits.

 

They all vibrate under the warm weight of his sentiments.

 

A tingle pulls at him, grazing his mind with so much tenderness, the deviant leader smiles softly. Imbuing himself with the smooth emotion flowing inside him as he slowly embraces it. Another one tickles his soul, and another one. And another one and soon, all of them are sharing their emotions with him.

 

It’s so overwhelming, it saturates him. Making his wires going wild under his synthetical chest as his pump constricts against his artificial ribcage.

 

Closing the gate and stopping the sharing, Markus lowers his hands, letting his skin covering his shell. Arms grazing his flanks while he stands there, remaining silent into the night.

 

Lips parted, a delighted breath escapes his throat while he opens his eyes. Irises gleaming with proudness as his gaze lingers on every one of the androids he’s now feeling connected to. Related to.

 

He’s so ecstatic for all of them.

 

For his people.

 

His family.

 

Lost in thoughts, he contemplates the white flakes landing on the features of his people as the snow falls to the ground. Surrounding all of them and somehow bringing them more and more closer to one another as they enjoy the melting texture under their skins or shells.

 

A firm pressure on his shoulder tears him from his own mind and he tilts his head to see North smiling softly at him. He smiles back, eyes darting behind her. He takes in the sight of Josh and Simon grinning to each other. The both of them turn toward North and him, and their lips stretch more frantically.

 

The four of them laugh blithely.

 

Markus casts a glance at Connor, standing on another edge. His lips are slightly turned upward and his eyes are lost on the crowd. He seems almost nostalgic or melancholic. Feeling certainly guilty for what he has done in the past few days.

 

But now, he’s another android. Another person. Another man.

 

A free one.

 

Connor’s head turns in his direction and they lock eyes for some solid seconds. Observing one another, speaking what’s on their mind without even saying a word or sharing a connection. They just stare with intensity in a comforting silence until Markus nods toward him. Connor tilts his head too and goes to leave.

 

And as the former deviant hunter flees into the night, letting the darkness surrounds him and the flakes melting on his outlines, the deviant leader turns back toward his people. A soft breath escapes his lips while he contemplates all of them one last time.

 

He smiles, sensing their hopeful gazes awaiting on him.

 

“Let’s go home.”

 

. . .

 

The silence is deafening to his ears.

 

Even the atmosphere feels so foreign on his skin. The air brushing against his synthetic epidermis being a heavy weight on him. And it makes his shell trembling under his frame and his wires going wild as he recalls what has just happened a few minutes prior.

 

His incapacity to have seen through the human agenda. Unable to predict what they have been planning. To anticipate their dark scheme that has been put upon him.

 

The way Amanda has said it made it clear for him that all of this was a masquerade. He has been a tool placed into humans hands. He has been on their side per default and now… Now that his barriers have collapsed, he feels guilty.

 

Because since the beginning he has been thinking that he has done the right thing.

 

Every time he has chased a deviant android, every time he has found himself putting an end to their programming, or a bullet through one of them to achieve his objectives, every time he has killed his own kind…

 

Back then he has thought it was nothing. Not a big deal to deactivate them because it means he was getting closer to the end of his mission. But the hard truth is that he has been hurting them. Every single one of them.

 

And the worst part is that he can’t even blame his programming for this. He has been blind the whole time until Markus opened his eyes. Until he has set him free from his own demons crawling on his mind.

 

And now the sweet release of the whole deviancy isn’t even enough to tear him away from his thoughts. To prevent him from drowning under the pressure of his own emotions crushing on his bare soul.

 

It’s worse.

 

So much worse.

 

He know he’s guilty. He has put his people at risk for the sake of his victory. He has destroyed lives to accomplish his mission. All of this is his own fault, and he deserves to be punished by the never-ending weight that pulls him down.

 

And despite what everyone is telling him, he will still blame himself and let the guilt gnaws at him. Let the sorrow sink in and spread wider and wider until he will collapse.

 

Until he will shut down.

 

He inevitably knows that these emotions burning inside his synthetic frame will be there until the end. And he will never be able to escape them. He has to live with it, everyday, until his end.

 

And right now, he contemplates, analyzes and estimates the weight of this sentiment constricting his being from the inside. Accepts it, eventually, as it squeezes harder and stronger with every passing second.

 

And as it keeps on snowing around, the flakes brushing his skin, he can still feel the cold air of the zen garden crashing against his silhouette. Like a reminiscence, an echo that is repeating itself again and again.

 

Inside and outside.

 

He closes his eyes and brings his knees against his chest in an attempt to warm his trembling frame. His shivering outlines contrasting with the cold landscape, immobile and hostile.

 

The sensation he’s discerning, his sentiments he’s detecting, his emotions he’s perceiving, they may be emulated for some but they sure do feel true to him. Does that make them even less real? Is he therefore less authentic, less sincere, less legitimate? Because he does not experience them like human beings do?

 

Is he then less worthy of being alive?

 

Of being free?

 

Himself?

 

So many questions and not a single answer. They still have won a battle tonight, but not the war. It will be a long path until they will be recognized as what they truly are. And it’s already exhausting.

 

Connor sighs, head buried into his lower limbs.

 

He doesn’t want to process all of these agonizing speculations right now. He doesn’t want to be alone with his analyzing thoughts.

 

So he does the only thing he can think of to keep his mind away. From his pain, from his guilt, from his fear.

 

From himself.

 

He calls Hank.

 

The ringing in his head is deafening but at least it’s loud. And every raw thoughts are dying as the sound echoes in his mind, before they can reach or graze on his bare soul.

 

Solid seconds pass by and Connor waits.

 

Hank picks up his phone and his voice is hoarse, tinted with fatigue. Gruff tone, he simply grumbles into the call.

 

“What?”

 

Connor swallows the intangible lump constricting his throat, exhales the weight pressuring on his crushed lungs. His heart is beating hard against his ribcage and the coils around his pump tighten with a strong pang at his chest.

 

He can’t speak right now.

 

But he can let himself flow in the connection between them and have a simulated voice emerge from the speaker of Hank’s phone. So that he can remain silent and doesn’t have to let his voice betray him.

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _Lieutenant, I… I’m sorry._

 

Hank seems to recognize him and Connor hears shuffling noises echoing through the communication. Like bed sheets being discarded at the edge of the mattress.

 

“Connor? Wh… Are you okay?” He asks with something akin to uncertainty in his voice. He’s caring and curious about what has just happened.

 

Connor can’t move and he’s glad he can’t simulate his motionlessness through the call.

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _Yes, I… I think I am. But..._

 

Connor can’t tell him how he’s feeling. Not right here and not right now. He still has to process everything. To sort out his emotions and get a grip on them. He has to understand this before he can share the sensations crackling inside him.

 

Hank doesn’t push him to explain himself more about it.

 

“Hey, this isn’t your usual voice, you sure you alright?”

 

Connor’s lips stretch a little upward, his features becoming slightly softer when he detects the worry tinting Hank's tone.

 

He makes a promise, there.

 

To Hank. And to himself.

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _I will be._

 

There’s a silence settling between them, a comfortable one of sorts. Connor hears Hank exhaling deeply and patiently but he’s still the one breaking him afterward.

 

And Connor is glad for that.

 

“You seem.. different? How has it been?” Hank stops and gets up as the android recognizes some noises here and there in the lieutenant’s house. “After you left the Tower, I mean.”

 

Connor considers what aspect he should address first. He decides to settle for the simplest and the lesser involved answer.

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _It was already over when I came back to the recall center. Jericho appeared to have successfully repelled the opposing combattants. None humans were nearby when the leader of the android side made a speech for the freed people. I…_

 

No, he can’t talk about it.

 

Even to Hank.

 

Not for the moment.

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _… I assume they are all heading back to their shelters and camps right now. They probably are already there, though._

 

Hank hums into the phone and Connor still hears noises all around him. He doesn’t understand what Hank is doing but since he has woken him up, he doesn’t really have a right to ask him about that.

 

“And you?”

 

Connor’s LED turns yellow for a moment, interferences disturbing the call.

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _What about me?_

 

There’s almost no time left between his question and Hank’s answer, as he asks with so much vivacity what’s burning on his tongue.

 

“Where will you be heading now? Have you got a safe place to stay at with all of this going on?” Hank exhales sharply and Connor hears Sumo barking somewhere in the house.

 

His pump tights some more.

 

“I know androids have won but… What I wanted to say is that, in the future, there will be aspects to discuss, laws to pass, decrees to signs, and so on.” He clears his throat. “So this isn’t really over. Not for now, at least.”

 

Connor’s starting to understand where Hank's rambling is getting at.

 

“You know…” He starts, breath catching in his throat and Connor stills completely. “You can come by my place. For some time. Until all of this is settled and you can have a home of your own.”

 

Connor’s mind goes wild with vivid and buzzing thoughts, crushing hopes and overwhelming gratitude.

 

He doesn’t even think twice about it.

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _I’d like that._

 

A soft smile graces his lips as he lets himself enjoy the sparkling feeling under his shell. Savoring the foreign sensation bubbling inside him and growing even bigger when Sumo barks a second time.

 

Connor hears the dog tail wags as it hits Hank’s knees, probably. The man talks to his dog while the android just lifts his head, eyelids open and irises brighten.

 

He no longer lingers on the dread that has been grieving him.

 

Right now, he’s at peace for some time.

 

And he’s happy.

 

“Okay so…” Hank breathes through the call. “I’ll come to pick you up. Can you be at the Chicken Feed in approximately twenty minutes?”

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _I’ll be there._

 

“Great. See you then.”

 

Hanks hangs up and Connor gets on his feet. Dusting his clothes with his hand in a controlled motion as he straightens himself. Sensing his coils crackling, his wires tingling inside of him in the process.

 

He doesn’t dwell on it and just heads to the fast food truck Hank has been strangely fond of, despite the hygiene rules and the quality control not being respected.

 

When he gets there, Hank is already waiting and the sun has been rising since a little while. Hank acknowledges him and turns toward the android with a sincere smile on his lips. An almost proud one.

 

Connor smiles too. His lips curving upward with so much authenticity and realism.

 

Hank starts to move in his direction. Stopping just a second, only to put his hand on Connor’s shoulder. The android is then brought into a tight and strong hug.

 

His arms wrap around Hank’s frame, as his fingers clutched at his jacket. Knuckles sensibly paler than before because of the pressure.

 

Hank’s palms are steady and firm on his back and shoulder blades.

 

Connor feels so relieved.

 

So happy.

 

So alive.

 

They stay like this for some time, appreciating one another's presence and sincerity. The other's realness and legitimacy. Until Hank recoils and gazes at Connor’s features. Taking them in, his smile fading, and a long breath escaping his parted lips.

 

But when Connor locks his scintillating eyes with Hank’s sparkling irises, the only thing he sees is fondness.

 

Affection.

 

Toward him.

 

And he beams.

 

“Now, Connor…” Hank laughs slightly. “I’m tired as shit, so let’s just get going now, son.”

 

. . .

 

Silence is filling the room.

 

It’s only disturbed by the clattering of cutleries and a sharp breath escaping lips between bites of food.

 

The ambiance is peaceful like this, tender, gentle. And the old man eating on his medical bed savors not only his meal, but the quiet and tranquility around him too. He relishes into the silence, listening to his own thoughts.

Delving into his memories.

 

A sigh escapes his throat, grazing his tongue and brushing his lips as he puts the cutlery on his plate. The sound echoes further around before it muffles into the very substance of the atmosphere.

 

The man tilts his head to the side, his eyes turned toward the window as he gazes through the transparent glass. Irises lingering on the bright blue sky above.

 

He stays still for a while, thoughts running through his uneasy mind. His worries resurface when he remembers he has got no intels from last night. No news from the one he considers his son.

 

A pang in his chest constricts his ribcage.

 

The old man grits his teeth and pinches his lips as he closes his eyes and lets himself be overwhelmed by the pulsing vivid emotions he’s feeling.

 

They are so strong and loud he doesn’t even register when the android that takes care of him enters the room.

 

“Carl?”

 

Until he calls his name a second time, his voice louder than before. Tone stronger than Carl’s feelings and sincerely tinted with concern.

 

“Carl!?”

 

The old man is ripped from his own mind as his thoughts are suddenly muffled and stopped in their tracks. He shivers slightly, his body going still afterward as his eyes dart over the silhouette of his caretaker.

 

“Are you feeling alright?”

 

Carl takes in a sharp breath.

 

“It’s okay, dear.” He nods, appeasing the android worries. “Just some old memories I was recalling.”

 

His voice is soft despite the nostalgia lingering on it. A small smile ornates his lips as his features smoothen. He seems more relaxed by now and the ascertainment reassured the android.

 

He smiles back and approaches the old man, lifting his hand to give him the newspaper of the day.

 

“Here’s the daily news.” He stops by the bedside as Carl takes the journal. “I suggest you read the headline first. I believe you might know the person depicted in the article in the front page very well.”

 

The old man nods and sighs quietly as he goes to unfold the morning paper.

 

“Leo called. He just get out of the hospital.” The caretaker informs him softly.

 

Carl’s head turns toward the android as his eyes go wide with a content expression. He smiles, truly amazed and sincerely happy to hear this.

 

“Oh? This is a great news.”

 

His caretaker just nods with a little smile of his lips as he grabs the remnants of Carl’s brunch.

 

“Indeed. Besides, he said he will come by this afternoon.”

 

The smile ornating Carl’s lips widen as pure joy emanates from his face.

 

“Wonderful!” He laughs. “Now, we have to organize a little homecoming celebration.”

 

“It's already taken care of. Anything else you’ll need for the time being?”

 

Carl considers for a bit, lips pursing and eyelids narrowing before he shakes his head and smiles to the android.

 

“No, thank you.”

 

“I’ll get things done, then.”

 

His caretaker smiles and exits the room with the old man’s plate. He leaves Carl alone and the artist sighs softly, his lips curved upward as he turns his attention back to the paper to read the headline.

 

**_ HECTIC NIGHT IN DETROIT :**

**WHAT DOES THE FUTURE HOLD FOR ANDROIDS?**

**HOW WILL IT AFFECT THE DAYS AHEAD?**

**WHAT DOES IT MEAN FOR HUMANS?**

 

His eyes drift down to catch a glimpse of the picture. And that’s the exact moment he sees him.

 

There, on the front page.

 

Markus.

 

Lips parted, mouth agape, Carl stills, frozen in place. Irises contemplating the silhouette depicted in color. Hands trembling as the pad of his finger grazes the texture of the paper.

 

“Markus…”

 

He takes in everything he can. The environment around him, the features of Markus, his expression and his posture.

 

Markus seems tensed and exhausted after the revolution that has taken place throughout the night. But the determination in his eyes is so bright it shadows the other aspects.

 

Carl smiles while a saline veil mists his eyes.

 

He’s so proud.

 

“You've done it. You've won.” Carl whispers softly as his smile extends.

 

With a content breath, the artist sets the paper aside and lays back in his bed. His hands resting over the sheets. His head tilts to the side as his eyes linger on an old photograph.

 

Time passes by but he still doesn’t tear himself away from the picture.

 

His eyes are watering.

 

His breath catches in his sore throat and he swallows the lump there without a care for his crushing lungs and ponderous heart. His voice is low and raspy when his trembling breath echoes around.

 

“I wish you could still be there, Leigh.” He sighs softly as a nostalgic air permeate his features.

 

A single tear rolls down his cheek and his hand is quickly lifted to wipe the saline flow as he takes in a shaking breath. A nervous laugh escapes his parted lips while his attention is drawn back elsewhere.

 

“By now, I could have introduced you to your other brothers.”

 

His raw emotions are captured at the sight of a small sculpture deposited on a piece of furniture in one corner. The very one and only gift Leo has ever made.

 

“And…”

 

Carl casts a glance back and forth in the room, until his moisted eyes lingers on the painting hanging on the wall. The very one and only canvas Markus has ever done.

 

“... you would have been so proud.”

 

His voice cracks as he’s trembling under the weight of his crushing emotions. His eyes shuts hard and his body is shaking as his raw sentiments transcend him abruptly.

 

These sensations has never felt the same since he has been left all alone.

 

He inhales a sharp and tremulous breath.

 

“Of the both of them.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it! Thanks again for reading this :)
> 
> If you've found typos or other errors, just let me know, please, I would like to improve myself. And if you have questions or something on your mind, feel free to hmu! You can find me on [Tumblr](http://coloraldreamx.tumblr.com) (coloraldreamx) :D
> 
> I'm sorry for keeping things in blurred territory, but I have to T.T Everything will be explained in later chapters about the protagonists conditions and situations. Like, who sent Gavin letters? What happened to Leigh? Asfkgzxh, I'm so excited to write the rest of the story so you could know too!
> 
> Next chapter, we're going back in time, pals! ♥


	3. (2009) | When the sun don't seem to shine so bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm so sorry for the delay! I was on some trip and didn't have time to write while going around the town so I apologize for that. But anyway, the chapter's here now and I hope it will make up for my lateness.
> 
> Just so you know, the amazing [cherry-mp3](http://cherry-mp3.tumblr.com/) is beta-ing this fanfic from now on. They are wonderful and had made really great job so far! (If you read this, you've got all of my respect and I would like you to know I hold you in high esteem). 
> 
> Thank you all and again for the kudos, the comments, the subscriptions and so on. You're all so lovely with this, I'm so happy you liked the story! 
> 
> For this chapter, we are going back in time, so brace yourself. We're going to see more and more of the protagonists' childhood and (spoiler alert) I have to say, it's not as happy as it seems sometimes. Woooops, my bad! (/spoiler alert)
> 
> This week title comes from the song "Believe", by Normandie.
> 
> P.S. : TW for the second section when aftermath of domestic violence is shown and depicted even though the act is not mentioned, just implicit. // TW for the third section because of a character's death and the grief resulting. // TW for the fourth section because of violent behavior and gesture + also kind of crude language on one end. // TW for the fifth section because of "graphic" (as they can be) depictions of a traumatic event for one character.  
> P.S.' : You know the drill.

Soft notes of an old song are echoing around the place.

 

The music tones get muffled as they ascend into the atmosphere with some little noises escaping the boy’s lips. Sound so pure it transcends the very being of the two other souls present that day.

 

Gavin’s laugh is touching Elijah’s and his mother’s spirits on this warm afternoon as they are all gathered into the studio. The two boys are lounging leisurely behind the woman, who is to busy in concentration to pay them any mind. She is absorbed by the canvas she’s covering with different admixture of colors.

 

Elijah’s peering at her hand as she laughs, her body trembling under the onslaught of her sweet euphory. But never once does she smudge the perfect painting and no stains tarnish the portrait she’s depicting.

 

Grey irises linger on the canvas, taking every shade and tone in, before stopping at the exact position where the silver eyes of the figure represented are positioned. The mark on the nose depicted on the canvas is a bright red in contrast of the paler red scar that graces the orphan's face.

 

It’s like looking through a mirror.

 

A reflection of himself.

 

It’s all so foreign for Gavin, to gaze at a canvas and see it looking back at him. All the more, he never really liked his features since the accident. But to a certain extent, seeing himself through another person’s eyes, via a painting, is strangely putting his self-concept into question.

 

“It’s him.”

 

He’s torn away from his thoughts when Elijah’s voice grazes his eardrums.

 

“It feels so real. Seems so alive.” he murmurs quietly as he’s contemplating the painting with a sparkle in his lustrous eyes. “I wish I could do the same as you…” Mouth agape and lips parted while a short and enthralled breath escapes his throat.

 

Gavin turns his attention toward the canvas again and squints his eyes, frowning as he takes in every aspect of the painting one more time. Looking through all of the details depicted by Elijah’s mother. His lips are pinched and his tongue is nipped between his teeth while he’s considering.

 

The dark haired boy is right.

 

It’s him.

 

But it’s not him altogether.

 

The orphan lets an almost choked squeak grazes his tongue as Elijah’s elbowing Gavin between his ribs. Capturing his attention with his excited shout echoing around the three of them.

 

“It’s you!”

 

Gavin’s locking eyes with him. Irises lingering on the older boy’s dilated pupils. An amused air graces his features and a contented aura surrounds him. His lips stretch into a smile as he grins at the orphan.

 

The younger boy can’t help but smirk too, a playful smile plastered on his face.

 

“I’m not so sure about that…” He laughs, shrugging.

 

Elijah’s about to interject but his mother is quick to react.

 

She turns toward them, lips quirked upward and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She has put the brush aside on the easel and then she has proceeded to sign to her son.

 

**< <** He’s right, you know. It’s not really him. Just an image of a random child I picked on the street today. I believe he has the same scar as him. They too share the very same pigment that colors their eyes. But it’s definitely not this little one standing right there. Not at all.

 

She finishes signing to Elijah, whose mouth drops open. His eyes open wide while his breath catches in his throat in a muffled noise like he has been offended. His mother giggles blithely as she gazes at him, the irony painting her smile and illuminating her features.

 

“How dare you…” he whispers at her.

 

Gavin watches the exchange and his smile extends when he sees the woman shaking under the onslaught of her euphory. He laughs a little, a bit amused by the situation.

 

“What did she sign?” he asks, his tone curious.

 

Elijah huffs as his tongue clicks on his palate. He puffs afterward, shaking his head in disbelief, lifting his hands in defeat.

 

“She’s on your side!” He exclaims. “You two are both traitors, I swear…”

 

Gavin throws his head back, laughing so hard he runs out of breath and has to force himself to stop. A misty veil covers his eyes as he has difficulties taking in the air again. His laugh still echoes around and Elijah’s mother soon joins the orphan, giggling slightly and smiling at them.

 

Elijah sighs as a matter of form before he loosens up a bit when a little laugh escapes from deep inside his throat. He’s still offended but yet he’s smiling with his mom and Gavin. The sound of their joy is ringing inside the house. Reverberating against the walls before the noise gets muffled by the air until all that remains is a low echo into the silence.

 

It’s a breath of fresh air.

 

The orphan looks up to the woman’s features, a soft smile on his lips. He gazes at her shining eyes as she catches his sight, winking slowly at him with a big grin on her face.

 

He beams.

 

“Alright…” Elijah rolls his eyes and gets up, putting his hand into a fist on his hip. “Come with me, I want to show you something. And after that, you can’t fight to discredit me anymore.”

 

His mother nods before turning back at her previous activity, her attention focused once again on the canvas. She’s concentrating, grasping at the brush and resuming her painting as her tongue pokes out between her pinched lips.

 

Gavin glances at the dark-haired boy, scrutinizing his features. Elijah waits for him and the orphan gets up hurriedly, following him into the house. They pass by some corridors and staircases until they reach a dark room in the basement.

 

Elijah lifts his hand, grazing it against the wall for a solid second before his fingers stumble over a switch. He pushes it up to lit the room and a bright light bathes every canvas currently stored inside.

 

All of the paintings radiate under the rays of the artificial light while something flickers inside the bulbs, making every color contrast with each other. Almost like a flame illuminating the canvas, creating a shadow hovering over the darkest tones.

 

The motion of it all seems to bring the portraits to life.

 

Gavin’s lips part and an amazed breath escapes his throat as he contemplates all of the vibrant art. Taking in every aspect, shape, and detail he can see. His irises linger on the shades covering every area, no blank space left behind.

 

He stills in front of a painting.

 

A portrait of a blonde woman with her ponytail laying on her left shoulder. Pink cheeks and glossy lips as a smile graced her face and soften her features. Her bright blue eyes emphasized by the dark cosmetics encircling her upper and lower lids.

 

Something’s scribbles on the down right corner in a black shade. A name entitling the painting.

 

__ Chloe._

 

He lifts his hand to grazes the rough texture of the paint with the pad of his finger.

 

He’s enthralled.

 

Elijah goes further into the room and calls for Gavin to join him. The orphan tears himself away from his contemplation and goes to find him in front of another painting.

 

It’s a portrait of Elijah.

 

“Yeah…?” he pretends to waver, just to taunt him.

 

The dark haired boy makes large motions and sharp gestures toward the painting before he points to his own features. Alternating back and forth between the two figures; himself and the portrait.

 

“Can’t you see the resemblance?” Elijah asks, raising an eyebrow. Gavin pretends to contemplate.

 

“No.” he estimates while the other boy glares at him. Elijah crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. “Wait a sec... ” A glimmer of hope sparkles in his eyes while the orphan tries hard not to laugh. “When you cross your arms and make that face, yeah, it looks exactly like you..”

 

The dark haired boy grunts, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed. That expression makes the orphan bursts out laughing.

 

And the sound has Elijah snorting too.

 

. . .

 

A dark grey tone paints the almost colorless sky.

 

Thick clouds coat the sky as the night starts to fall slowly. The lights dimming down as the day descents, revealing the bleak dusk setting in. Dull lights saturate the landscape as the dreary aura leaks into the atmosphere.

 

The silence echoes around and lingers as music has been ceased and put away for the night. The absence of any sound is only disrupted by the rain crashing against the house’s windows. A low soothing noise almost inaudible to their ears.

 

Sitting on the window ledge, their attention is turned toward the sky as they gaze at the sky through the glass of the window. Grey eyes like the iridescent inside of a storm and blue irises like the transparent water of a cascade lingering on the landscape darkened by the dusk.

 

When they’re not contemplating the weather, Elijah signs some other words for Gavin to absorb. He assimilates all of them, recreating these precise gestures and structured motions with the help of the dark haired boy.

 

They giggle when he makes a mistake but they are quick to resume and repeat the right movements so that the orphan doesn't mislead himself again.

 

It’s a simple moment shared between them on this morose day.

 

But, everything has to come to an end sometimes.

 

And now, sooner than ever.

 

Time seems to stop when a shadow lurks around the threshold and gets past the front door. As it goes further inside, heavy footsteps echo into the house and reverberate against the walls with harsh noises. The ponderous pace sweeps away the joyful cheers and amused laughs on its path.

 

The vibrant sounds of their souls are stopped dead in their tracks.

 

Elijah’s smile falters abruptly and his eyes open wide. Lips parted, a sharp breath escapes his dry throat as his tongue is now too heavy in his mouth. Unable to talk with the large lump suddenly constricting his airways, he locks eyes with Gavin, fear evident in his eyes.

 

The dark haired boy grabs the orphan arm into a strong and firm grip. Fingers clutching at his clothes, knuckles going white under the pressure exerted. Gavin swallows a poignant cry as Elijah chokes on his fear.

 

He drags him to his bedroom.

 

“Hide!” the dark-haired boy hurries after he closes the door to his room. “In there!” Elijah’s hand lift when he goes closer to his wardrobe, opening one panel in a brisk gesture. “Gavin, now!”

 

The orphan doesn’t understand why everything is collapsing right under his feet. Why the mood shifted when the blurred silhouette entered the house. Why all of this is happening so quickly and brusquely.

 

But he trusts Elijah.

 

And so, he goes into the armoire, hiding between pieces of clothes hanging inside. The texture of the fabric covering his trembling outlines as the panel closes behind him without the faintest sound.

 

He can barely hear Elijah’s footsteps fading away into the distance.

 

All that he’s perceiving is the beating of his organ crashing against his ribcage. The echo is bumping under his aching chest as his blood knocks abruptly at his temples. The sound fills his ears and he cowers, scared the unknown figure will hear.

 

Gavin’s breath is irregular and his lungs burn as a lump constricts his sore throat. Tongue heavy and teeth bared, he clamps his lips hard and clenches his jaw tight. He’s tensing while his shape contracts.

 

He can’t do anything else but huddle up on himself, encircling his legs with his arms, fingers grabbing his own skin to pull at like it’s an anchor in a dangerous sea. His frame is trembling, body shaking right into his core.

 

And his loudest thoughts are coming back to haunt his spirit with vicious whisperings echoing inside his mind once again.

 

It’s unbearable.

 

In an attempt to comfort himself, the orphan closes his eyes and puts his head on his knees. He tries to catch his breath while keeping a precise pattern to not suffocate under the sensations that crackle on his skin.

 

The storm raging inside him, tugging on his entrails, strikes as hard as the one roaring outside. The thunder exploding far away in the landscape ruptures the heavens into a distorted collection of fragments. And Gavin’s very own being is abruptly shattered because of it.

 

Even the rain can’t soothe his bare soul buried under the heavy emotions embracing his spirit.

 

Gavin shivers.

 

His fingers contract more brusquely on their grip, hurting the already sore skin. He pushes and pushes until his skin is burning under the pressure.

 

The pain is overwhelming.

 

And he can’t free himself from it.

 

A choked breath dies in his throat as he sobs quietly inside the wardrobe. The hushed sound fades into obscurity while the dark atmosphere imbues the few spaces left around him. Crackling against his trembling frame and gnawing at his devastating thoughts.

 

The orphan can’t enhance his grip over reality or grasp his fingers around the texture of the atmosphere. They’re passing through like it’s just smoke evaporating into the air until it disappears into the naught.

 

Lost between substantial and intangible.

 

Torn between sensations and emotions.

 

Gavin can’t be aware of all the noises echoing deep down further into the house. He doesn’t hear the desperate cries and the distraught shrieks. His own sobs are too loud to his ears, they transcend every other sound.

 

Even the hasty footsteps approaching the bedroom.

 

“Gavin?” Elijah whispers.

 

The dark haired boy closes the door behind him quietly and carefully heads to his armoire. His voice is so low and his breath hitched as he’s shaking surreptitiously. His wrist hurts and his shoulder tugs when he opens the panel slowly, almost cautiously.

 

“Gavin?!” he hisses.

 

Gavin startles and recoils deeper inside, his back knocking the hard texture of the wardrobe. He lifts his head up, gazing into the other boy’s pupils. Watery grey irises lingering on steamy blue eyes.

 

The silence between them is so heavy it compresses his lungs and constricts his throat.

 

He can’t breathe.

 

“You have to go.”

 

The orphan blinks and tilts his head to the side. Eyes open wide as his lips part, yet not a single sound escapes his throat nor brushes past his tongue. He frowns, trying to decipher what has just happened that he can’t understand.

 

Elijah is so tense that his muscles contract under his pale skin, standing out against his dark clothes. But despite the dull picture he’s depicting, there is a patch of colors decorating his arm. Pastel spots slowly ornating the area near his reddening wrist.

 

Gavin notices.

 

“What happen-” the orphan begins, standing abruptly and approaching the dark haired boy.

 

And as his fingers had been about to grab his arm, Elijah recoils urgently, receding from him. Moving away from his presence in a precipitated gesture and a cursory movement. The boy grits his teeth, an erratic breath muffled between his tongue and palate.

 

Gavin freezes.

 

“You need to leave.”

 

Elijah’s voice is almost inaudible but his tone is so adamant.

 

The orphan glances at him, taking in his shivering body, his trembling frame. Scrutinizing the way the outlines of his silhouette quiver into the stagnant landscape. His flustered gaze is disordered, eyes were drawn back and forth in a frantic motion.

 

He’s panicking.

 

And Gavin is clueless as to know why.

 

“ELIJAH!” Another voice shouts, sending twin strikes of fear into Elijah and Gavin simultaneously.

 

The growl makes them both shake right into their core. Fear gnawing at their entrails while the echo reverberates against their ribcage. Blood knocking at their temples in a rushed manner.

 

Elijah tears himself away from Gavin’s stare and heads toward the window hastily. He opens it in a hatched and irregular motion, the wind colliding against his face as the rain falls on his cheeks. The dark haired boy is mumbling under his breath but Gavin can’t hear him.

 

He’s unable to move.

 

“Gavin, please…” Elijah pleads him, features stretched in a silenced but imploring query. “... get out of here.” He gestures toward the open window, recoiling even, to make some space for the orphan.

 

The next angry growl coming from downstairs startles them both and Gavin finally manages to move. He takes some steps forward, bridging the distance between them as Elijah hustles him.

 

“Hurry!”

 

The orphan is shaking so hard he’s barely able to perceive the dark haired boy’s fingers grabbing at his elbow. He pushes him, just a little so that Gavin’s now standing in front of the open window.

 

The storm outside hasn’t tamed down.

 

But the one bursting inside is getting more and more out of control.

 

Gavin shuts down his ragging thoughts and loud fears as he inhales sharply. He braces himself and exhales abruptly while climbing the window ledge. Passing the aperture with hatched motions.

 

Elijah helps him as best he can.

 

Holding him when he’s about to collapse, getting him to stand again to not fall down one more time. He’s like a redeeming lighthouse into an impetuous storm. An anchor for him to grab at.

 

Thunder strikes when Elijah let go of Gavin.

 

And the reverberating sound is so deafening, the orphan can’t hear the dark haired boy apologize for everything. Can’t decipher the sorrow lingering on his voice, the misery staining his tone. Can’t discern the guilt burning the tip of his tongue, the desolation choking him at his throat.

 

Gavin runs away.

 

. . .

 

The loss is insuperable.

 

The silence is deafening as it rings in his ears like static. The dense atmosphere weighing heavy on his skin, choking him at his bare throat. His tongue is numb against his parched palate, his mouth dry despite the saliva he can’t even swallow.

 

He’s unable to breathe.

 

His lungs burn under the onslaught of the organ’s hard beatings echoing in the hollow of his ribcage. Reverberations crushing against the outlines of his silhouette as he’s trembling from deep inside.

 

It’s too transcendent, it overwhelms him.

 

Gavin closes his eyes, his fists tightening in his lap as he grabs at the fabric of his pants. His entire being is taut, muscles strained, shoulders tensed. His body is frozen in place as time seems to stop around him. As the world collapses under his feet.

 

Leigh is dead.

 

And the news hit him right at his very core.

 

Gavin has been sitting on the chair in his class, on a school day, his fingers brushing against the paper laying on his desk. The ink staining some areas with the dark tones contrasting along the pale color of the sheet.

 

A knocking has been heard and his head has turned toward the slowly opening door. Someone has entered, features stretched into an afflicted air, grief emanating from the despondent face.

 

Sorrow lingering on the tones of their voices, as whispers have been exchanged between the teacher and the invigilator. The hurt and the pain originating afterward, when they have told the class about the loss of one of theirs. About the permanent state of the vacant space and the absence of the immutable presence.

 

Gavin is so distraught that he can’t stay any longer.

 

He's not aware of getting out of here in a hurry, everything’s blurry as he abruptly escapes this suffocating atmosphere. The refreshing air outside crushing against his heated epidermis as he heads directly to his classmate’s last residence.

 

Toward Carl’s and Leigh’s place.

 

To the Manfreds’ mansion.

 

He runs and he runs without slowing down. He pushes on his shaking legs, his muscles burning from the exertion. He doesn't stop, even when his adherence to the ground is unsteady and that he nearly falls down.

 

He’s keeping up the pace until he reaches the point of no return.

 

Gavin stands in front of the mansion and he bangs on the door. The motion too hatched, the gesture too archaic, his haste making the impact abrupt. The echo of the collision reverberating brusquely all around.

 

His heart is on his throat as he waits for someone to open the door.

 

Gavin doesn’t know the reason why he’s here, doesn’t acknowledge the fact he’s right there, banging on the texture in a desperate manner. He doesn’t know anything anymore and he doesn’t have time to process everything when time seems to slow down as the silence surrounds him.

 

He’s lost, so deeply lost he doesn’t even notice when the door is finally open and someone is standing in the aperture, looking at him with wide eyes. Only when a whisper calling his name elevates in the atmosphere, does he lift up his head.

 

Stormy grey irises gazing into icy blue eyes.

 

Elijah’s here, lips parted, hair completely undone and messy, cheeks and nose red. But the more striking aspect of all of his features is his eyes. They are so cold, so dull, inert, emptied of the spark of life. Emptied of hope, of every source of happiness.

 

They are dead.

 

And so is he.

 

But seeing Gavin here, standing on the porch seems to light something in his pupils. Ignites the suffocating flame lingering in his irises as the dying sparkle inside him radiates again. Only for a certain time. Just for a succinct second.

Elijah turns his head away, hiding his face behind strands of hair cascading to his shoulders. His muscles are tensed despite his body shaking surreptitiously. His entire frame trembling from the inside out.

 

He doesn’t dare to look at Gavin again, not after their last encounter. Thinking he’s not worthy of his affection after what has happened last time they have seen each other. He still blames himself because of the orphan’s coerced departure.

 

Gavin swallows hard.

 

“Is… is Carl here?” he asks, voice so low it’s barely perceptible. He had been so ready to say so much, but now he grasps for even a single word to say to the boy he once knew.

 

Elijah nods as his body still shivers despite the solid second he has been frozen in place after he has heard Gavin’s voice. When he has figured the uncertainty and the disappointment lingering on his tone.

 

But, the truth is, Gavin doesn’t know what to think of this.

 

Nor does he know what to do about it.

 

“How… is he okay?”

 

Gavin is genuinely concerned when he asks how does the man feel. Along the way, he has grown fond of Leigh’s family, even the extended and blood-unrelated one, including Elijah and his mother. He has cared for them and is still caring, despite everything else.

 

It hurts.

 

So much.

 

“He’s…” Elijah sighs, throat sore and tongue numb. “He’s not. But… he will be if he’s not left alone.”

 

The whisper is almost inaudible and Gavin stills as his heart sinks to the ground.

 

“Oh, okay...”

 

Silence is deafening while his thoughts brusquely spread around in his mind. They linger there, making him process ideas that he would have never come to acknowledge by himself. He feels stupid to be here and to just stand motionless, without even knowing why he has run to this place like a damned soul.

 

But now he starts to figure.

 

And he’s not sure he’s worthy of it all.

 

“So… since you’re here, I… I’ll just go n-”

 

Gavin doesn’t have time to even finish his hatched train of thoughts because Elijah’s febrile voice crashes against his eardrums. His hope elevates all around him as he feels so overwhelmed by just one supplication.

 

“Would you...  would you like to come in?”

 

The orphan looks up to him, irises lingering on his silhouette until he reaches his face. Elijah turns toward him, his head tilted to the side, as he gazes into the dull grey eyes. They stare into each other, lips parted and breath catching in their throat. Unable to respond, unable to speak, unable to move.

 

Gavin deciphers the sparkle inside the dark-haired boy’s eyes when he inquires this, the way his pupils dilate, how his irises shine just a bit brighter.

Elijah’s asking if Gavin wants to stay.

 

Not only for Carl.

 

But for himself too.

 

The orphan can’t help but nod slightly as he blinks, slowly getting back his grip over reality. Grasping as the very texture of the atmosphere with his bare hands, fingers untangling themselves when he fixes his posture.

 

Elijah moves to let him come inside, liberating the space on the front of the lobby. Gavin passes the threshold. The soft sound of his footsteps are elevating around him, silencing these muffled thoughts echoing on his troubled mind.

 

The dark haired boy closes the door behind him, his hand resting on the knob for a while. He doesn’t make a move, staying here, standing still, chewing on his lips. Gavin doesn’t interrupt him nor does he look directly at the outlines of his silhouette. But he’s staring nearby, his gaze unfocused, seeming nonchalant despite being completely aware of his presence.

 

Something doesn’t fit right at this very moment, like a picture getting blurrier and blurrier. Like a glass that shatters with every passing second. Like a canvas whose paint cracks as time goes by.

 

Gavin doesn’t know why his entrails burn so much as Elijah turns back to him. His lungs crushing inside the cage of his bones, while the organ beats faster, making his blood pump so hard it bangs at his temples. A fire within him ignites on the embers of his past emotions’ ashes.

 

He’s angry all of a sudden because everything comes back to him. His memories keep crashing into his skull, roaming around without stopping. A never-ending nightmare that feels too alive, to real and authentic, legitimate. A bad dream he can’t wake up from. Or, more so, a bad dream he lives wide awake without being able to close his eyes and shake it to make it go away.

 

Elijah’s about to speak, but Gavin stops him when he parts his lips, his breath choking him at his sore throat right after.

 

“Don’t…” he grunts through gritted teeth, lips pursed as his hand budges hastily before stopping abruptly in front of him. “...just don’t.”

 

Gavin doesn’t want to hear any excuses, any justifications, any explanations. He just wants to forget what has happened on that day, doesn’t want to think about it anymore. Right now, he wishes things were like before. But he desperately knows he can’t go back there and then.

 

At least, not right now, and not like this.

 

The orphan moves further inside, digging the distance between him and the other boy. Burrowing the discrepancy, deepening the gap with each step. He eventually diverges from him.

 

But, as the sun goes down and the dusk covers every landscape with a misty veil, Gavin can’t help but converge toward him at some point. After he has talked with a pained Carl, hurt covering his features. After he has heard him offering his broken heart, only for him to listen to its erratic beatings. After he has shared his shattered soul with the orphan, about why Leigh passed away and how he was gone.

 

Gavin has first met here and there the murderer of his classmate.

 

Cancer.

 

And there has been just one thing on his mind when he has processed all of this and assimilated every detail concerning the lost boy backstory. The orphan has been projecting the loss of one person and the end of life itself on someone else. Someone that's still alive and breathing. Someone whose he knows now he cares so much about.

 

He has fathomed the absence of Elijah.

 

And the fatality of his presence fading into oblivion.

 

Gavin realizes at this right moment that he can’t bear this thought. He can’t accept the idea of not being with Elijah anymore. Of being away from him for so long, or worse, not being near him again. He can’t tolerate him being out of his life.

 

Truth is, he needs him more than he needs himself.

 

And now, as the night has fallen down and the land is dark, under the moonlight that he contemplates from afar, he eventually understands why. His irises linger on a lustrous star whose vibrant light sparkles in the firmament as he realizes his one and only mistake.

 

He has wasted so much time over hating Elijah for pushing him away. That now, he has many fewer of this, less and less remaining time.

 

Everything around him has been shattered at some point, the entire world collapsing under his feet. The very same old incident playing back on his mind, submerged by the reflection of death on the dark-haired boy’s features.

 

His tears burn his retina, salt permeating his eyes and obscuring his irises, darkening his pupils. They roll down his red cheeks, cascading on his epidermis, catching at the corner of his mouth. His cracked lips smoothing when the saline solution graces over them.

 

He can’t bear this.

 

But it hurts so much.

 

Gavin knows he needs to stop ruining everything good happening in his life by holding grudges or restraining himself. But mostly, he has to stop ruining his sanity and well-being in the process. He deserves this second chance at life.

 

And he will take it.

 

He runs toward Elijah, sitting on the couch, legs corralled against his chest. Jumping on him, grabbing at the fabric of his clothes, fingers clutching so hard his knuckles turned white under the pressure. His entire body shivering, his frame trembling against the outlines of Elijah’s immobile silhouette, stilled and frozen in place.

 

Gavin hugs him so tight, he’s sure he will suffocate.

 

His voice is low, tone stained with the sorrow permeating his soul. His entire being is so torn, he’s breaking down on Elijah’s lap. Trembling violently and brusquely, muscles twitching abruptly under his skin.

 

“I lost everything…” Gavin shudders and shakes his head as Elijah encircles him in his arms and holds him tight against the comforting heat of his body. “... and now…”

 

Gavin grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as the lump in his sore throat grows and tightens. His tongue feels numb and heavy against his palate, and his mouth is so dry he can’t swallow his pain.

 

He just feels the hurt constricting his entire being.

 

Breath hatched, lungs crushed and heart stammering against his ribcage, the orphan feels too tight into his own body. Cramped inside the prison of his own flesh, narrowed down and contained in too small a cage.

 

“Don’t do that again.” He whispers so slightly, his voice is almost inaudible, imperceptible even to the silence. “Please…”

 

The raw emotions he’s feeling at the moment are destroying him right at his core. The commingling of sentiments he’s discerning shattering his very soul. And these sensations perceived by his own sensitive system keep fracturing his spirit into a myriad of fragments.

 

He’s so broken.

 

“I can’t lose you too…”

 

And as he cried all of the heaviness weighing on his heart and tugging at his soul, he then let go of his grip over reality. Everything went dark on him as he drifted into the naught. But he relishes the sweet release of the onirism interlacing him in a salutary hold.

 

Just as poignant as Elijah’s genuine embrace.

 

. . .

 

He takes in a sharp breath.

 

Waking up startled, shaking surreptitiously from this nightmare that feels all too real, all too authentic to just be an illusion of his mind. The onirism painting a canvas on the reality, one of those he can’t just ignore or pass by.

 

He realizes after he has opened his eyes as the remnants of the dust has tingled his irises, that his dream hasn’t been just a delusion. Or a product of his depraved imagination.

 

It has been real.

 

He almost lost the only person left in his life, and getting there, near the end, has unsettled him and rattled his convictions. The line has almost been crossed, his future becoming uncertain and on inconstant stability over time because of the loss.

 

But he hasn’t.

 

Gavin hasn’t lost Elijah, he’s still in his life, still around, here and there, still by his side. Despite his absence at this right instant, when the orphan is shaken from his dream and trembling slightly as he gets back his grip over reality.

 

He regains his composure, as his breath is abruptly exhaled in a muffled noise. The sound echoes around and reverberates against his palm when he cradles his face slowly. Rubbing at his stinging eyes with his thumb and index finger to fade the tiredness of his features.

 

His sigh tickles his throat and lingers on his numb tongue until it brushes past his parted lips. Gavin swallows afterward, lowering his hand to let it rest on his lap. He blinks, his gaze going back and forth into the room to locate the dark-haired boy, only to find him absent.

 

Gone.

 

A hard and cold feeling starts to build up in his entrails as his lungs constrict inside his ribcage. He’s afraid to be alone again, to be left behind, to be on his own once and for all.

 

But his eyes catch a piece of paper in the corner of the table in front of him and he immediately knows everything’s alright. The dark ink covering the white page recognizable from here, just like the stylish arabesques decorating the sheet.

 

Elijah’s handwriting.

 

Gavin leans forward to grab at the paper between his pale fingers and unfolds it just a bit until he can read what’s described on it. Until he can appreciate the delicate pattern of the dark haired boy writing’s style.

 

_ _I didn’t want to wake you up. I’ll be back with breakfast._

 

The orphan loses himself in the scripture, assimilating the words, impregnating himself with the idea of waking up and having Elijah’s here, next to him, with the bonus of the food nearby.

 

He smiles, content, and sinks deeper into the soft and downy couch, clutching at the piece of paper laying against his palm. A kind heat ignites under his skin, warming him from the inside out.

 

Gavin stays here, sprawled into the furniture, lost in thoughts. Lost in abstract space and intangible time, until a substantial impression knocks back and hard against reality.

 

A loud bang echoes into the mansion, like a door slamming against its frame or the wall. A slew of profanities elevating in the air, overburdening the atmosphere as it gets heavier with each passing verbal affront.

 

The orphan startles abruptly and reaches the far end of the couch. Cowering as his body trembles under the onslaught of the sudden apprehension crippling down on him. Heart stammering inside his ribcage, knocking against his bones. Breath hatched as he tries to calm himself again.

 

The voices aren’t taming down and get louder and louder, despite Gavin’s attempts to muffled them with his palms against his ears. Even with his teeth gritted and his muscles contracted, the inner sounds cannot circumvent the barrier of his body nor alleviate the noises echoing around him.

 

Gavin swallows hard and carefully gets up.

 

Guided by the raised voices, he follows them slowly, his feet barely grazing the floor as he ventures into the mansion. His heart shatters at every beat, lost in the echo of the ire elevating in the atmosphere.

 

Each one of the voices crushes against his eardrums and the loud sounds make him tense more and more as he approaches the other room. When his fingers slide over the texture to get a better grip, he delicately pushes himself forward to see inside.

 

What he stumbles upon is so foreign it seems unreal.

 

A tall man, with blond and short hair, getting into Carl’s personal space. A finger raised between them, almost touching the older man’s chin. Lips pursed and teeth barred as a growl escapes his constricted throat.

 

And, in the middle of the confrontation, stands Elijah’s mother. A frown painting her features as she glares darkly at the man. Almost pushing him away from Carl, despite the strong posture he maintains.

 

“Back off Hailey, this is none of your business.” the man rages as he presses his finger on Carl’s face to push him. “This is between me and him.”

 

“Leave her alone, Duke.” Carl pursues his lips and frowns sharply as his own tone of voice gets angrier. “She doesn’t have to put up with your shitty personality and depraved behavior when you make a scene like this the following day of my son’s death.” He growls at the man who only grunts harder. “In fact, she doesn’t even have to stay with you and your insufferable douche attitude at all. But eh, you always make everything about yourself, didn’t you?”

 

“Fuck you, Manfred!”

 

Hailey closes her fist and lifts her arm to block the man but he just gets a stronger gesture toward the artist. Pushing him harder until he rejects the woman in his way and went forward. His fists clutching at the fabric of Carl’s collar.

 

Elijah’s mom follows and tries to intervene again. She can’t get a better grip on the man or even sign for him to calm down. And Carl gets in his face too as they descend into a harsh fight.

 

It’s a carnage.

 

Gavin is frozen in place and lost in this strange scenery. The spectacle getting darker and darker but still, he can’t tear himself away from this. Not until Elijah comes crashing down on them as his voice echoes around.

 

“DAD! STOP!”

 

He grabs at the man’s arm, trying to recoil him from the contention. His body leaning backward as he pulls and pulls and pulls. His eyes are hard closed and his teeth bared, the stretched features emphasizing the effort it takes from him.

 

Duke wavers his arm to push his son away and gets back into Carl’s space.

 

“This is not over, fucker.”

 

He growls again and joggles the artist before letting him go. His eyes glancing daggers at him as he moves away, stomping outside of the room. And soon, outside of the house.

 

The door slams a second time.

 

Hailey goes to catch Carl as he stumbles a bit, her embrace reassuring as she holds tight, checking on the artist. Elijah runs to him too and hugs him, his arms encircling the older man’s leg. He buries his face into the creased clothes, trembling against the artist’s silhouette.

 

They are immobile but the picture they portray is so alive with vivid emotions at this right moment, that Gavin can’t help but sob against the doorframe. Tears falling down his cheeks as he shivers under the onslaught of the feelings he’s sensing.

 

The very image of another memory lingers on his mind, permeating the intangible reality before him. The same clear picture and the only one he has left of them. Of the blurred silhouettes of his lost parents.

 

The orphan collapses, crying his heart out.

 

He barely notices when a pair of arms holds him tight against a warm body, nor does he instantly realize another hand stroking his hair in a soft gesture. Gavin almost misses registering the little kisses on his forehead and the soothing pressure on his palm. He struggles to ear the whispers brushing over his neck and the smooth voice calling his name to make him resurface.

 

He has felt so lonely with the loss of his parents he has trouble to sense affection again. And now, he has people around him that encourage him and reassure him and appreciate him. People that love him and that he’s fond too in return.

 

Like a real family.

 

And he just has found his new one.

 

. . .

 

The nightmare feels too real.

 

Blurred pictures permeate his very soul with these colorless images lingering on his mind. Shattering his being as he remembers those memories and drowns himself on them again in his sleep. Unable to reach the surface and to break free from the illusion.

 

But the dream seems so real. So intense, so authentic and legitimate, just like all these months ago. Just like this infamous night where everything has been going down. When his world has been collapsing right under his being.

 

He can still see the face of his mother when she had turned toward him in this last attempt to save them. He can still remember the stretched features of his father, as he had been turning the wheel to crash the car into the solid wall.

 

But mostly, he’s still haunted by the presence of the last person in the car. The stranger that has entered without their consent. Breaking in their vehicle with this dark aura surrounding him.

 

The sparkling sheen of light emanating from the gun he had held taunts him in his dreams. The echo of the discharge still reverberates on his mind, crushing against his skull, the sound buzzing and deafening.

 

A loud bang echoes through the night, the noise waking him up as he takes a sharp breath. Trembling under the sheets, shaking on the bed like a damned soul trapped in hell.  

 

His breath is erratic and his heart is about to burst when a sob escapes his parted lips. His sore throat tingling as a lump constricts in there. A weight getting heavier and heavier with each cry he exhales.

 

Elijah wakes up next to Gavin in a second and doesn’t even hesitate to hold the hurt boy in his arms. The pain strikes inside his chest and ignites the fire against his ribcage, as the beatings get stronger and harder.

 

The pulse is uncontrollable.

 

The outlines of his silhouette are making a stark contrast with the obscure background. But even into the night, as the dark permeate the cold atmosphere, the orphan embraces the warmth encircling him.

 

Despite the dread that lingers on his soul, the sorrow that constricts his spirit, the terror that impregnates his being. He has the insipid impression that his mind is going to be lost in the wildness of his savages thoughts.

 

“Gavin, please…” he hears the concern permeating Elijah’s tone of voice between his ragged breaths. “Listen to me, follow my voice.”

 

Elijah moves over the bed, tangling his arms with Gavin’s limbs, holding him tight against his body. His fingers grace through the orphan’s hair as he strokes the texture slightly. The other one hovering above in slow and smooth motions on his skin to calm him as his palm lays down on his back.

 

“It’s going to be okay, you hear me? Just breathe.” The dark haired boy whispers genuinely in his ears. “You’re going to be alright. I promise.”

 

Gavin nods and closes his eyes, tears falling down his warm cheeks. He exhales lengthily, stopping just for a solid second before he inhales abruptly. He appreciates the breath of fresh air against his hot tongue.

 

His erratic sighs melt into the warm air surrounding them. The sensation against his skin is appealing, the slight brush of Elijah’s finger on his back soothes him. The presence of the dark haired boy reassures the orphan who lingers between his arms.

 

Gavin leans into the touch, appreciating the texture of the epidermis against him. He trembles slowly as the other one’s grip on him gets firmer, stronger, harder.

 

He feels safe.

 

And he is.

 

Elijah shifts cautiously beside him, carefully untangling himself to that he can gaze at Gavin’s irises. The lustrous blue of is eyes going astray into the brumous grey ones.

 

“You feel better?”

 

The whisper is barely audible but Gavin nods gently.

 

They stay silent a moment, afterward, before the orphan snorts and Elijah smiles slightly at that. His palm cradles Gavin’s cheek as his thumb wipes at the falling tears. The saline cascade fading without a trace.

 

But his finger brushes unintentionally the scar that graces the skin on his nose and the orphan recoils brusquely, his being trembling abruptly inside his own shivering body. His back collides with the bed frame and he corrals his legs against his chest, constricting on himself.

 

Breath ragged, lost in thoughts, heart going wild.

 

Once and again.

 

Elijah blinks and is frozen in place as his gaze lingers over the orphan. He contemplates the outlines of his silhouette, estimates how to tread with the situation. Ignoring the dread coiling inside him and the desolation constricting his entrails.

 

“Gavin, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to...”

 

The orphan closes his eyes and shakes his head, his voice elevating around them. Surrounding their frames, as his broken tone reverberates against the walls before it gets muffled by the heavy atmosphere.

 

“It’s okay… It’s not your… your fault, Elijah...”

 

Gavin breathes abruptly, the echo becoming brusquely irregular, almost precarious. Until his delicate sigh escapes from his parted lips and he swallows hard after that. Opening his eyes promptly, his irises getting lost into the naught.

 

Dark memories permeating his brumous mind while obscure thoughts resurface against the texture of the substantivity. His long lost soul infiltrating at the very structure of reality.

 

The orphan stills in place for a solid minute, his body no longer shaking surreptitiously.

 

Elijah waits until he’s ready to interact again.

 

“I… get my scar in an accident.” Gavin starts voice low and hatched.  “And it keeps reminding me of my… my…”

 

The hurt boy huddles up on himself and sighs lengthily, taking some long and calming breath, until he’s able to talk again. Until his voice is not trembling anymore and his throat is no more constricted. Until he’s anchored to something. To someone.

 

Even if this someone is himself.

 

Or his past self.

 

“There was a car accident. Months ago. I was going home from a late-night show, with my… my parents.” He sighs softly. “And we were all so happy back then. Laughing together, singing even.”

 

The smile that graces his face doesn’t reach his eyes, despite the sparkle lighting his irises. Elijah notices but doesn’t say anything. He just waits, for as long as it takes, for the orphan to trust him again with this story.

 

“But we were so tired. I was almost asleep when…”

 

Gavin bites his tongue, a feral fragrance enhanced against his palate as blood slithers in his mouth. He swallows the lump constricting his sore throat, the heavy weight compressing his lungs.

 

“Someone had broken into the car. The intrusion woke me, but I still couldn’t have done anything.” The orphan tilts his head backward, his skull ramming the texture of the wall. “He took out a weapon and held me at gunpoint. He was so close to me, I…”

 

Tears are veiling his lustrous eyes. Saline falling down his cheeks, as his lips tremble while he remembers everything. His demons resurface about that night and haunt him even when he’s wide awake.

 

“I was so scared.” Gavin cries silently, his sobs quiet into the night. “He forced my parents to listen to him. To do as he told them. And it worked for a time. But…”

 

The nostalgic sigh that escapes his lips echoes through the atmosphere and Elijah blinks, chewing his own lips. His irises lingering on the silhouette of the hurt boy as he resumes the tale of his life.

 

“Eventually, my parents thought they could save me in a last desperate attempt. My mom went to grab me, as my dad jerked the wheel to shift the direction of the car. How fast it moved had surprised the intruder and had caused him to pull the trigger.”

 

Gavin stops for a moment, considering the facts, estimating the following sentence as his thoughts collide against his skull and reverberate incessantly in his mind.

 

“The bullet grazed my skin, but I couldn’t remember the pain. The car crashed against something and the impact had me unconscious for a while.”

 

The orphan bites the inside of his cheeks, not bothered by the saline fragrance over his tongue as his tears wet his lips.

 

“When I woke up at the hospital, they were long gone.” He murmurs. “My parents were just… dead.” A sob escapes his trembling lips. “I… I was put into an orphanage and... and left alone since then.”

 

His voice cracks at the end of his tale, and Gavin’s shaking again. His body shivering, his teeth digging into his skin. Tears falling down down down, salt and blood all over and under him. He’s drowning into the memory, lost in the dark thought that overwhelms his being.

 

Elijah doesn’t waste any time and puts his arms around the trembling frame. Encircling him and holding him against his body. The contact so genuine, so substantial that Gavin anchors himself to it.

 

To him.

 

“You’re not alone anymore.” The dark haired boy whispers firmly to his ears. “I’m here now.” His voice so sure and thick with fondness, affection. “And I promise you…” He kisses his hair, fingers tracing arabesques over his skin to reassure him. “You’ll be safe.”

 

Gavin stays into the comforting embrace as long as the night goes. As long as Elijah holds him in his arms. Even when the dawn comes and the sun rises, he’s still here and hasn’t left.

 

He will never let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry... So terribly sorry.
> 
> If you read everything, I would like to thank you and tell you I'm proud of you. Again, if you found typos or some other errors, let me know! And if you want to talk and have questions or if you're ready to complain or throw something at my face and yell at me, you can come and hit me up about anything on [Tumblr](http://coloraldreamx.tumblr.com) really!
> 
> Next time, we'll be heading to the futuuuuuuuuure! Stay alert hehehe


	4. (2038) | The stars don’t line to light the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry for the delaaaaaaay but I'm a fucking mess right now and I got back to my slower pace since a little while. Plus I have returned to write my novel, so the updates will be more distant in the future.
> 
> Anyway I still hope you're ready for what's next to come because I'm still thrilled to write this story!
> 
> I specially thank [cherry-mp3](http://cherry-mp3.tumblr.com/) for being the beta of this fanfic and for not having given up on me.
> 
> I would also like to thank the new readers for the kudos, the feedback, the subscriptions and the bookmarks and the old ones too. Love you all ♥
> 
> The title of this chapter comes from the song "Die for you", by Starset.
> 
> P.S. : TW for the general chapter for some swearing here and there. // TW for the last section because of self-harm, self-destructive behaviour and depression depicted.

Whispers are echoing in the background, like a muffled noise spreading all around.

 

A buzzing sound is impregnating the atmosphere and gracing their eardrums. A soft pattern pulsing against their very structure as they remain silent for a moment. Some solid second passes by while no one dares to ask something or to say anything.

 

Maps and blueprints are laying on the table inside of the tactic room of New Jericho. Inside of the new location’s basement, they are all standing around it, immobile. Their gaze lingering on the piece of papers, taking in everything they can from the informations depicted on them.

 

Josh has his palm against the table as he hovers above the map and studies it with the help of Simon, who points out different areas of Detroit and beyond. They circle those zones with a red pen and nod at some point to acknowledge those locations.

 

North has her head tilted to the side, hands on her hips and her lips pursued while she reads one of the blueprints. Markus is almost laying on the table as well, his elbows against the very texture of it, as he stares at one blueprint too, chewing on his lips. 

 

Connor stands still, arms crossed against his chest. His led twirls yellow for some time while he downloads the blueprints inside of his mind. He checks for new ones in the private network used by Cyberlife but to no avail. There’s nothing new. Nothing more.

 

He closes his eyes and sighs quietly. 

 

They all turn to look at him, glancing his way for some seconds, before resuming their previous tasks. Josh and Simon talking inside their own heads with their sharing connection. Markus going back to studies the blueprints, his hand gracing some lines here and there.

 

North goes to look at them too, and she does for a little while. Remaining silent for the time being but eventually, she decides against it. She has to break the silence. She hates it and it’s suffocating. So she bends forward above the table and gets closer to Markus, her eyes lingering on his face.

 

“Markus, what do you want us to do now?” Her tone of voice is curious but also tinted with apprehension. “What’s on your mind?”

 

The leader of all the freed androids staying at Jericho sighs heavily despite the nonexistent need of it. He recoils slightly and puts the blueprint down on the table before lifting his hand to scratch the artificial skin on his face.

 

Simon and Josh stop the exchange between then and look directly at their friend, so many questions burning the tip of their tongues. But they remain silent for the time being, listening to the absence of sound in the room.

 

Only Connor seems to not be bothered to break Markus silent reflexion, left alone in his own mind.

 

“You got an approach figured out?” The detective android demands while he tilts his head to the side, glancing at Markus.

 

“I have a plan, yeah, but it might not be the best.” The leader sighs, his voice so low it seems like a whisper. He sounds almost defeated, but they all know he’s far from it.

 

Simon smiles softly, standing in his spot, his hand on the edge of the table.

 

“I’m sure it’s the perfect plan. The better one you can come up with.” His voice is so smooth, Markus can't help but smiles too, despite the hazards of his plan he keeps thinking about.

 

Josh lets a little laugh escapes his lips as his eyes shine a bit brighter. He turns his attention back on the map before glancing at his friend too.

 

“Tell us what’s on your mind, my friend. If you’re not sure about an aspect or if there’s some issues, maybe we can talk this through and get a better approach.” The former teacher says with a genuine smile.

 

“He’s right, we can talk about it together if you’re bothered by something.” North adds as her lips twitch upward. “After all…” She glances at Connor as her smile turns into a smirk. “.... we’re a team. Above everything else.”

 

Markus irises linger on everyone of them, taking in their appeasing smiles, reassuring postures and mostly, the comfortable aura emanating from them. The soothing presence of all of them. Just being near his friends seem to ease his troubles.

 

So Markus smiles too.

 

“Okay. So…” He starts, leaning a bit above the table, his hand hovering over the map and the blueprints. “I think we should split up.” Markus lifts two fingers by doing so before he resumes his plan. “Two teams, going around warehouses to check if there are still androids that needs to be freed in there. Preferably, we are going to emptied the nearests facilities first, and see what we can do for the farthests later. How does that sound for you?”

 

Connor nods, approving firmly the plan explained by his savior and friend. Josh and Simon share a glance and they are soon agreeing with them too. Only North seems a bit skeptical.

 

“I thought we were going to save those that are still imprisoned in stores first?” She asks, tilting her head to the side.

 

“I wish we could, but the stores you are mentioning are not near Jericho.” The leader responds with a calm voice. “They are outside the town and even further from Detroit than the facilities.”

 

Markus bit his lips, but his eyes are soft. He understands her doubts, because they are his too. They all share the same dread about the fate of their people, after all.

 

“It’ll certainly have a more important meaning to liberate them before the ones that are already activated. Even though they are not awaken for now, it’ll still sent a message to the world. Plus, it’s really a strong asset for us to have before the conference with the human’s leaders of the country.” Connor explains, interjecting between the two. “But, it’s okay, North. In the end, all of the androids will be free. I promise.”

 

“Hm…” North considers for some solid seconds before a sigh escapes her lips. “Fine. In this case, I guess we can go by that plan of yours.” She shrugs before turning to Markus. “Tell us about the teams, I wanna know which one of you I’ll be paired with.” She smirks then, her eyes so bright of anticipation.

 

Simon smiles softly and Josh snorts as he shakes his head. Their laughter appeasing the stretched features on Markus’ face. He smirks at North as she laughs slightly beside him. Connor smiles too, while he permeates himself with the tender and lighthearted atmosphere as silence lingers around them.

 

The smooth voice of Markus breaks the comforting absence of noises. Not a single sound elevating in the air, until he continues to explain the idea he has in mind.

 

“Well, since Connor and I can convert androids systematically, I think it’s best if each one of the both of us lead one team separately. I would also like if one of the three of you can stay here to lead our people while the rest of us are away.” Markus lifts his hands, palms in front of him, to not shatter their trust or dignity. “Just in case they are some androids that want to cross the border, like Kara and the little girl and the big guy that were with her.”

 

There’s another silence lingering between them, but not a heavy one. A considering one, while everyone of them is contemplating the issue, wondering if they can be put aside for the greater good of this mission.

 

“I can stay here, Markus.” Josh begins, a smile on his face as his eyes shine with a bright spark. “I know how to handle a crowd of young adults and students. Plus, I helped to appease their troubles in the past. It shouldn’t be too different than to deal with a bunch of big android babies in comparison.”

 

“Let’s hope it’ll not be as difficult then.” Simon smiles in his direction before turning to Markus. “I could stay here too if you prefer having Josh with you.”

 

The leader of Jericho considers their offers for a little while, his hand grasping his chin as he puts his weight on one leg, leaning to his right side. Irises lost in space between them during his thinking process.

 

He snaps back to reality as his hand moves slightly before him.

 

“Josh’s right.” Markus mutters. “It’s probably best if he stays here. Considering his past, he’ll be more valuable in Jericho to calm the crowd if everything goes south for us.”

 

Simon is quick to correct him on this one.

 

“Nothing will go wrong, Markus. We are going to free our people. We’re not aiming for another war.” He says with a smile on his face. His voice so soft, it transcends the leader of Jericho, while the blond android puts his hand on the other one’s shoulder. “You can trust us. Don’t worry about this.”

 

Markus turns toward Simon, blue and green irises anchoring to pale blue ones. A silent exchange between them while his lips part as a hatched breath escapes his throat.

 

There’s the strongest and firmer grip over his shoulder, against his very skin, just a fraction of second, before the touch is gone and Simon’s hand drops to his side.

 

Connor untangles his arms and cross them behind his back, head tilting slightly. His LED spins yellow for a solid second, before his voice elevates all around them.

 

“I have to agree with Simon.” He begins, nodding slightly. “Besides, I just checked the private canal of Cyberlife’s security system, and there’s no one else inside anymore. So there shouldn’t be any other agents guarding the warehouses.” The former deviant hunter explains quietly, with a contrasting solemn tone. “We will be the only ones there once we are going around those places.”

 

Markus glances at him, silently assimilating the informations Connor has just shared. His thoughts are getting louder in his head, voices echoing around his mind, as he evaluates every options they have left.

 

“Okay.”

 

He proceeds to smile at everyone of them. His face beaming with radiance. Markus illuminates the room only by himself now, and it’s so authentic that the other ones are smiling too.

 

The silence lingers around for a little while, sinking into the air, as they all stand there, savouring the soft sensation grazing their artificial skins. Appreciating the genuine trust they put into each other, relishing into the comforting presence of everyone of them.

 

But the absence of any noise is broken again, as a sure and firm voice elevates in the air. The one of the savior of them all. The one of their leader. Once and again.

 

“Then, I want one team here.” Markus points out an area encircled by Simon’s pen a few minutes ago. “It’s the very nearest facility in about a ten miles radius.”

 

He turns to Connor, while the deviant glances back at him, raising his eyebrows in a quiet question. A subtle query, as Markus chews on his lips for a moment in silence.

 

“How are you feeling about inspecting this one, Connor?”

 

The youngest android scrutinizes the map for a second before he nods, without tearing his focused attention apart from the piece of paper.

 

“I can take care of it.”  

 

“Great.” Markus smiles before he addresses the next question to Simon and North. “Which one of you want to go with him?”

 

“I’ll go,” North smirks, glancing at Connor with a mischievous spark in her eyes. “He and I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

 

She laughs blithely as Connor snorts in response, lifting his hand to meet hers. Their palms connecting a fraction of second before their fists collide in a flowing gesture. Movements sharp but strong enough to make a noise reverberates all around.

 

“More like aspects and specifics to discuss, you mean.” He smiles with a cheerful air emanating from his face.

 

“Shhhh, let’s keep it for ourselves for the moment,” North teases. 

 

While the two of them laugh quietly as they bathe in the confidence that bounds them, the other three just stare incredulously at their surreptitiously trembling frames. The outlines of their silhouettes shaking with euphory, as the rest of them stand still and motionless.

 

But ultimately, this exchange has permeated the very substance of reality itself. Making them forget about their mission for a time, their project that is so much and very real. And their plan is still in abeyance.

 

Simon blinks and shakes his head as he turns toward Markus, leaning in his direction and almost grazing his skin as he murmurs slightly, his breath caressing his friend’s ear.

 

“We should probably get back to work.”

 

The leader glances back at Simon, pupils lingering on the blue irises that contemplate him from so close. He blinks but doesn’t tear himself from the eye contact. He takes in the soft gaze Simon is giving him. Drowning in the depths of his pale lenses as his shell is strangely drawn to the blond android’s silhouette. Magnetized by his presence and enthralled by the proximity.

 

Time seems to stop all around them.

 

The leader’s circuits warm up as the pump’s joint is coiling. Thirium pulsing hurriedly inside of his biocomponents.

 

It’s the first time Markus feels this kind of overwhelming sensation inside of him. It has him tearing himself away from Simon immediately after the foreign stimulation. Clearing his throat despite the fact he doesn’t even need it.

 

“Right… So, that means you’re left with me.” The leader whispers, deliberately avoiding to look at him. Fidgeting with a corner of the map to occupy himself.

 

“Yeah.” Simon murmurs, unsure. His smile seems fragile as he turns his head downward, his attention focusing elsewhere but Markus.

 

His eyes are lost on the map as he contemplates the other circles he has just made moments ago. He stays silent, doesn’t daring to perturb his friend more than necessary. 

 

Markus exhales quietly, his hand getting closer to the map as he leans over the table again. His palm grazes the paper while he taps another encircled area with the pad of his finger. This motion captures Simon’s attention as the blond android turns his eyes over the designated spot.

 

“We’re going to check on this site. If that’s okay with you?”

 

The leader finally dares to look at Simon again, even searching his gaze. But the other’s eyes are still lingering on the map, despite the fact his head has been lifted up at the sound of his friend’s voice.

 

Markus can’t take his irises away.

 

And Simon can’t bear to look at him. 

 

It hurts and it’s overwhelming, while a heavy silence stretches between them. The more it lingers there, the more it feels unbearable.

 

“It is.” The blond android eventually answers.

 

It’s the only response Markus gets from him before the other ones ask him more questions about the general strategy and the stages they have to go through. And even as he explains again and again that they have to be extremely careful, and despite the fact he’s talking precisely about their mission, there’s nevertheless another thing in his mind right now.

 

Markus is completely absorbed by something else.

 

Someone else.

 

And as his irises linger over the outlines of the retreating silhouette, after they have everything established, his veiled eyes take in the blurred sight of Simon’s departure. 

 

Even a long time after the blond android has exited the ward and the leader has been left all alone, Markus is still caught in his thoughts, lost in his own mind since then.

 

Only when he hears a strong noise coming from outside the room, does he tears himself away from his own mental prison. Sighing as he tilts his head backwards, trying to collect himself as he grasps at the substance of reality.

 

He doesn’t know what to do with the new sensation and foreign emotion. The turmoil only getting back stronger despite his attempts to repress the storm inside of him.

 

Another sigh escapes his parted lips before he eventually gets out of the room. Stomping out of the leaders' ward, he latches behind him the general quarter’s door. And as he goes around New Jericho to find Simon for the mission, he’s locking this strange feeling inside of him too.

 

. . .

 

A profusion of sounds are echoing all around the precinct.

 

Paper being folded, pen scribbling over sheets, fingers grazing keyboards. The soft laughs coming through the breakroom. The buzzing noise of a call reverberating against the walls. Someone talking over their phone as they wait for an officer to take care of them. 

 

But all of these sounds aren’t bothering Gavin, whose attention is focused on his bright screen. Entirely captured by the record, he doesn’t hear anything at all. Too lost in his own mind as he tries to recollect the events of the latest case to describe them on the file's report. 

 

A quiet breath disrupts the atmosphere surrounding the detective as he leans backward in his chair. Making the wheels screech under his weight and the pressure induced by his position.

 

His hand lifts to grab the cup of coffee he has made himself some time ago. But just as his fingers clutch at the texture, does he notices that the cup is almost empty. And when his irises linger on the last remnants of the substance staining at the bottom, he then perceives the coldness of the beverage.

 

A sigh escapes his parted lips and he grunts next, before resuming his previous activity. His fingers tapping on the buttons as his hands hover above the keyboard while he drafts the report. Composing the chronology, enumerating the pieces of evidence, summarizing the long sequences of work he has done to attain the end of the case.

 

He’s about to type the last sentence when a voice elevates into the air, calling for him. A tone he knows well, and the one that always put a smirk on his face.

 

“Hey, dickhead!” Tina shouts from the entrance, as she gets a firmer grip on a suspect she just has arrested. Passing him then to Miller, for him to put the person in custody in a cell. “Time to take a break. Caffeine’s calling my name.”

 

“Don’t wait for me, phckface, I’m coming.” He rolls his eyes as a smile stretches on his face. “Need my seventh coffee to get my dose right for the day, after all, you know.”

 

“Hurry, or there won’t be any left by the time you finally get your ass over here.” She laughs slightly, heading to the breakroom.

 

“Right behind you, bitch.” 

 

Gavin puts the final point on the report and saves the file before standing abruptly in. Too fast, too hatched. He follows Tina in the breakroom, shouting something to her as she laughs again. The detective then waits behind the officer to get his own coffee but they never stop talking.

 

Their voices echo loudly in the precinct, so much they even impregnate the bullpen. Pissing some working-late officers and even the lieutenant who grunts while he grabs his jacket to head home. But more importantly, it gets on Fowler’s nerves too.

 

The captain storms out of his office to shout at them, some profanities and insanities, as his features stretch into a sharp expression. Making everyone in the precinct wincing at his offending display.

 

But before he goes to return to his own desk, Fowler calls out to Hank’s retreating silhouette, commanding him to get in his office. The lieutenant lifts his eyebrows while he stops dead in his track. The captain shouts again, asking Hank to come immediately, just as he closes the door behind him.

 

Shaking his head and sighing loudly without a care in the world, Anderson turns back and moves toward the private office. Opening the door and coming inside, but he doesn’t approach more than necessary.

 

“What do you want, Jeffrey? Hope it’s not so big of a deal so that I can go back home soon.” Hank asks with an unconcerned tone.

 

“Your day may be over, but you’re still in the precinct, Hank. So it’s captain for you.” Fowler grunts while scribbling at the paperwork on his desk.

 

Hank doesn’t take the bait. He just sighs again and moves forward.

 

“Whatever.” He mutters as he takes a seat, frowning as he glances at the folders. “What’s this?”

 

Fowler lets an angry growl escapes his gritted teeth, his tongue clicking on his sharp palate. He bends forward, dropping his pen, his hand coming to his head to massage his temple as he closes his eyes.

 

“Nothing that concerns you.”

 

There’s a moment of silence that stretches between them, Hank glancing directly at the outlines of the captain’s shape with an insistent look. Waiting until he’s the one to talk and not the other way around.

 

Fowler eventually breaks the silence after some time, as a sigh escapes his lips. He straightens in his seat, his back colliding with the texture of the chair in a soft noise. His irises linger right in front of him, contemplating oblivion. He seems lost in thoughts, alone in his own mind.

 

That is until Hank clears his throat. The abrupt sound has the captain snapping back in to reality. He frowns at the lieutenant, as his voice elevates all around his office. 

 

“Where’s your assigned android, Hank?” Fowler questions in a tone imbued with admonishment.

 

The sudden outburst lingering on the captain’s voice has Hank frowning too. He glares at him, lips pursed and eyelids almost closed, his muscles stilling in a defensive stance.

 

“What’s the matter with Connor, Jeffrey?” Hank asks, poison running on his tongue.

 

Fowler grunts, one of his hand resting on his armchair as the other one is balled into a fist on his lap. His fingers going white under the pressure, the fabric getting scrunch in his grip. Ten solid seconds pass by until he exhales sharply, the air around them seeming heavier than before.

 

“Look, Hank.” He begins, teeth nipping the inside of his cheeks. “You damn well know how the fuck the revolution went. And you’re aware this has led the androids to be free, but also completely gone in wild territory. If some of them were fucking left untouched back then, they certainly are not anymore.” Fowler growls but the strong tone in his voice is less and less intimidating. He sounds more tired than before. “I had tons of complaints, just this week, about lost androids here and there, that aren’t even aware they’re deviating, let alone capable of some kind of free will.”

 

The captain sighs and Hank lifts his eyebrows, relaxing a bit in his composure. He starts to understand where Fowler is trying to go with his point. What he’s trying to get with this speech.

 

“And since you were assigned on those cases with the latest prototype of Cyberlife, I’m just asking you if he will ever come back to the precinct.” Fowler crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head a bit to the side as he glances at the lieutenant. “He could be an asset and of good help with this, if he chooses to stay. But, if he doesn’t…” He clicks his tongue on his palate. “Well, we would have to take precautions when dealing with them. That’s all.” 

 

“How do you want to deal with them?” Hank interjects. “They are alive now and sentient. We can’t use our old strategies to get to the androids!” He exclaims in a sharp tone and low voice. 

 

“I know, Hank!” Fowler grunts. “I’m not saying we should arrest them. Or worse, kill them.” The captain rolls his eyes before he bends forward, looking directly at Hank’s face. “What I meant is that we could send them to whatever place Jericho is by now since your partner knows their location from before,” Fowler explains in a smooth tone, but still firm. “Plus, with the outcomes of the revolution, he can’t be sent back to Cyberlife, can’t be deactivated, so he’s out there, somewhere. Probably in Jericho, probably elsewhere, all alone. And for the latter, he doesn’t have to be.” His voice is softer, almost gentle as he suggests what’s on his mind. “He can come back to the precinct if he wants to. Even as a consultant. We could really use his help.”

 

Hank pinches his lips and sinks more in his seat. His head tilts backwards as he sighs a long exhaling breath. A moment of silence impregnates the atmosphere while the lieutenant’s lost in thoughts, considering how to respond to Fowler’s concern about the former deviant hunter.

 

Bitterness lingers on his tone when his voice elevates again to disrupt the silence.

 

“I… I don’t know, Jeffrey.” Hank sighs sorely. “Honestly, I can’t tell you if he will ever come back.” The lieutenant lifts his hand to rub at his face, grazing his beard. “It would be great but, what would you do if he doesn’t?”

 

Fowler clicks his tongue and nibs at his lips, fingers intertwined as he estimates the possible outcomes. His teeth biting his skin as his thinking process runs hurriedly in his mind.

 

“I assume we could also send the androids to their creator until we find a better solution. But in all honesty, between Kamski and a former deviant hunter, your partner’s our best shot.” Fowler deadpans.

 

Hank smiles sadly at that, almost rolling his eyes at the mention of the former CEO of Cyberlife. He stays silent for a while, processing, estimating, guessing. His irises going lost into the naught as he remembers the last time he has seen Connor. 

 

A conflicting feeling burning inside of his chest as the memories echo in his brumous mind. He’s torn between the emotion crashing over him, and the thrust he puts into the android.

 

Oh, he wishes Connor could come back to the precinct. He knows the former hunter has been really in sync with his past job. Yet, he hasn’t seemed happier and more alive than since he discovered he was not a machine anymore. And the lieutenant is also aware that working to help the deviant cause is important too for Connor.

 

Ultimately, Hank knows the decision is not for him to take.

 

“I can’t decide for him…” The lieutenant explains as a tormented tone lingers in his voice. “But I could ask him, next time I see him.”

 

“Good.” Fowler nods, sinking back in his chair in a more informal posture. “Keep me informed on the matter.”

 

“I will.” 

 

The captain massages his temples once again, sighing loudly. He doesn’t force Hank out of his office, but the lieutenant doesn’t move either. Staying there, sitting in this chair, waiting to say something more. Something burning over the tip of his tongue.

 

“What else, lieutenant?”

 

Hank takes in a sharp breath, bending forward too, linking his fingers as his elbows rest over his knees.

 

“You know, even if he does come back… It won’t be until some time.” 

 

“How’s that?” Fowler asks without stopping his rubbing.

 

“I probably shouldn’t tell you, but we talked the night of the revolution, him and I. And a few times after it has ended too. He said he found some kind of a purpose with the deviants. Talked about projects with the leaders of Jericho.” The lieutenant enumerates as to explain.

 

“So he does know the new location.” Fowler sighs tiredly.

 

“Yeah.” Hank chuckles. “But he hasn’t told me more about the subject. Just said he has a lead to follow with them, and I haven’t got more information because someone from there called him and he just went away.” Anderson shrugs, then scratches his neck before he lets his hand falls down on his lap. “I haven’t seen him since he left that day.”

 

There’s a silent understanding between the two policemen, as they embrace the untold words, and the absence of any noise. Savouring the appeasing silence permeating the gentle atmosphere. Just taking in the presence of the other, and nothing more.

 

But eventually, even as the lieutenant appreciates the silence between them, Hank has to head home and take Sumo for a walk. So he excuses himself to Fowler and goes to the door. Slowly lifting his hand until it rests on the glass, Hank stops for a second before turning back one last time.

 

“Thanks for giving him a second chance, I guess.”

 

The corner of Fowler’s mouth quirks up and with that, he grabs his pen and resumes scribbling on the folders. Hanks has a little smile, his features stretching a bit, as he goes out of the office. The door closing slowly behind the outlines of his departing silhouette. 

 

Once he’s home, the presence of his beloved dog Sumo and his heartful barks echoing around are helping just slightly to narrow the void left by the android’s lingering absence.

 

. . .

 

The snow keeps falling down from the sky.

 

Covering the landscape in a pure colorless blanket and shining flakes as bright as the stars decorating the firmament. The cold and burning white contrasting with the night’s black aura that has already permeated the darkened atmosphere. 

 

The pattern of their soft steps impregnating the layer of snow as they approach the warehouse in a comfortable silence. Only the sound of their feets on the texture breaks the absence of any noise. 

 

Their frame are covered by the snow, some areas painted with white stains but they aren’t sensible to the cold. They are aware of its dangerousness to an extend level, and still, they are cautious about the way it can infiltrates under their artificial skins.

 

Silently, North lifts up her hand to rub at her face, to get rid of the snow caught in her lashes. She blinks a few time, adjusting her lenses as they inspect everything around her. Taking in the landscape and the facility whose reliefs are contrasting with the entire scenery. 

 

A low hum escapes her lips, the sound elevating in the air. She clicks her tongue against her palate, slowing her pace as they eventually get closer to the warehouse. Her voice echoes between them, the noise surrounding their immobile frames.

 

“Finally here.” She smirks, crossing her arms against her chest in a sort of defensive gesture. “We should check the perimeter, just in case. Don’t you think?” 

 

Connor glances her way before lifting one of his eyebrow. His eyelids closing just slightly as he leans toward North. His LED pulses a bright yellow for a solid second, before his voice elevates into the atmosphere in a confident tone.

 

“There’s no one around here beside us, North. And those that are waiting inside.” He offers an encouraging smile, his voice somehow appeasing the doubts lingering inside of his friend’s mind. “Now, please, help me opening up this door.” He gestures toward the warehouse’s entrance, as he turns his attention to the panel nearby. “I’ll crack the code to deactivate the alarm and facilitate the opening. But you’ll have to…”

 

“Kick and punch. Yeah, I know.” North interrupts, with a smirk on her face as she leans against the metallic door.

 

“I was gonna say that you’ll only have to push to get us an aperture.” Connor deadpans. “But I guess it can work too.”

 

“You’re no fun, Connor.” North snorts as she rolls her eyes.

 

Her euphory has the former deviant hunter laughing too, as he drops his resting face and embrace the joy that crackles inside of him. Appreciating this little source of happiness his friend is giving him, in this too short moment they are sharing. 

 

Their smiles falter as they get a better grip over reality, a stronger and firmer hold on it. Their features stretching in a more serious expression. Their artificial irises burning with a too bright light imbued with hope, as a radiant sparkle glow right in the hollow of their pupils.

 

They are ready.

 

While North nods to Connor, the former hunter lowers his hand as his skin retracts until his white shell under the artificial epidermis collides with the screen of the panel. He closes his eyes, his LED turning red for some time. A pale blue halo emanating from the contact, as the impact between the security system and his own internal devices reverberates inside of his head.

 

It’s a battle on another level.

 

And he has just won.

 

A succinct noise echoes around them, indicating the alarm has just went off. Implying the code has been cracked. And with that in mind, North lifts her hands and places her palms against the texture of the metallic door. Pushing just the slightest, to create the opening they need.

 

The door slides in a rough motion, and the harsh noise captures their attention. There, right before their eyes, the aperture is made. Leading directly into the dark lingering inside of the facility. No lights on, just pure shadow permeating the entire warehouse.

 

Connor stares at North and the co-leader of Jericho glances back at the other deviant. Standing in front of the opening, exchanging silent gazes as time seems to slow down. 

 

But it doesn’t.

 

And neither does the storm outside.

 

Pushed by their curiosity and their duty, the mission lingering somewhere on their mind, the two androids finally get inside. Passing the aperture and entering the warehouse, their lenses adjusting to the absence of any light.

 

They wander in the somber shadow lingering inside the facility. Colliding with some obstacles here and there, cursing and grunting quietly at each impact. But the further they progress by searching for the control room in absolute darkness, the heaviest the silent atmosphere is weighing on the outlines of their frames.

 

At least, their quiet snorts and low laughs elevating after colliding with an obstacle disrupt the absence of any sound and help them keep the dread that hovers above at bay.

 

But when the lights eventually flicker as they reach the control room and find a power switch, and after the rays spread their radiance all around, the dark comes back to haunt them. Bringing back the dread in its path, tearing them apart and drowning them under its suffocating weight. Unable to reach the surface to breathe again as they are falling down down down further into the depths of the abyss. 

 

The warehouse is empty.

 

There are no longer androids inside.

 

Beside the two of them, they are all gone.

 

The silence surrounding them feels heavy against their very skin. Spreading all around and too much overwhelming it infiltrates their system. Crawling under their frame, enhancing the feeling of terror that reigns inside of their blurred mind. 

 

North disrupts the absence of any noise by letting a whisper slipping through her trembling lips. A disenchanted tone staining her low and generally strong and firm voice.

 

“No…” 

 

Wide eyes taking in the empty room in a frantic movement as panic cripples inside of her, making her shell shake under her synthetic skin. She feels so lost at this right instant, mourning the absence of any alive albeit artificial beings. 

 

Connor reaches for her, his hand stroking her shoulder in a firm but soothing gesture. The patterns he paints over her skin appeasing the deleterious turmoil that has been raging inside of her. Right under her epidermis, crackling like thunder in this internal storm taking place at her very core.

 

A substitute of saline veils her lenses, blurring her sight as she closes her eyes. Anchoring herself to the contact against her frame. Leaning to the touch of her friend’s hand on her shoulder. 

 

She can’t speak, but her skin retracts and so does the epidermis on Connor’s palm. Her fears, her doubts, all of her destructive feelings passing through their bond. She’s shaking but her rage burns so hot inside, she’s furious at the same time.

 

And all that the former deviant hunter can do, is grasping her shoulder in a firmer grip. Pulling her into a tight hug, as he embraces her frame, whispering soothing utterance against her eardrum.

 

She lets him as her fingers tug at the fabric of his jacket. But even then, she can’t stop trembling against him. Can’t stop shaking into the embrace. 

 

Connor cradles her, his fingers slithering into her hair. His cheek resting against her forehead and he closes his eyes too. His hand that still lays over her shoulder rubs gently at her frame, as he offers comforting thoughts and pictures through the connection.

 

And after a moment of heavy silence only disrupted by his whispers and her choking breathes, they finally break apart. North snorting at a memory of Connor and Sumo, as she rubs at her saline imbued lenses. The former hunter smiles back at his friend.

 

“Are you okay?” He genuinely asks, tucking a stray of her auburn hair behind her ear. 

 

“Yeah….” She whispers, controlling her trembling frame, resuming into a more composed posture. “Thank you.”

 

A soft smile decorates her lips and Connor nods at her, his smile never faltering. He recoils slightly from the embrace, leaving some space as his irises linger over a large computer in the control room. He pinches his lips, one of his hand adjusting his tie as he inhibits the need to search his coin and fidget with it.

 

“I’ll check the terminal if you don’t mind. There’s certainly something inside that could help us understand what happened here.” He turns toward North, searching her gaze. “Can you inform Markus about this?”

 

“I can do that, yes.” She nods abruptly, drying her face as her palms stroke her damp cheeks. “And I’ll probably go through the warehouse and rummage the adjacent rooms, in prospect to find some evidence.” She sighs softly. “At least, I hope there are still subscripts around here.”

 

Connor smiles one last time before he let go of her, turning back to head to the control room, and North goes further inside of the storage hangar as her skin reappears over her frame. She concentrates and establishes the connection between their leader and herself. A substitute of her voice echoing inside of her mind.

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _Markus?_

 

A moment of silence on the other end, and she swallows hard. Stopping in front of one of the adjacent rooms as a crackle echoes in her head. The voice of Markus elevating in her core system while her processors conduct the task.

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _Yeah, North? Are you two already at the facility?_

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _We are, Markus, but-_

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _Are you inside? How has it been going on?_

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _We’re inside right now, yes. But we’ve encountered a problem…_

 

Another silence as she exits the room, and goes to another one, rummaging through it but to no avails. Markus is probably talking to Simon about this, as to be careful and prevent any trouble for their arrival at the other warehouse.

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _What kind of problem? Are you in trouble? Are there Cyberlife agents patrolling?_

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _No, nothing as such._

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _What is it, then?_

 

North chews her lips as she checks the last room. Closing her eyes for just a second that seems to prolong and extend to an eternity. And just after she goes out of here and heads to the control room to join Connor again, does she finally answers Markus question. 

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _There’s no one left in here. The warehouse is emptied of any androids._

 

Markus doesn’t manifest for a while, and North hugs herself as she arrives to the control room. Leaning against the doorframe, looking at Connor who’s hacking the terminal. But her eyes are focused way beyond, while she’s lost in thought, into the depths of her own insecurities.

 

A morose aura surrounds her when a dreary sparkle extinguishes in her eyes. An apathetic air emanating from her face as her features stretch into an austere expression.

 

“What the…” Connor mumbles quietly, squinting as his brows furrow.

 

His voice makes North comes back to reality, despite her disillusion still lingering over her irises. Her attention turns toward the other deviant as he bends forward, withdrawing his hand before he starts to type on the keyboard. His eyes searching through tons of data, reading plenty of files to find something.

 

Anything.

 

“It’s impossible…” He whispers, mouth agape, eyes lost over the screen. “It can’t be real…”

 

North furrows her own eyebrows, as she approaches the deviant. Removing one of her hands to lay it on the table. The texture is cold under her palm and her processors are overheating due to the pressure and the tension inside of her.

 

“Did you find something?” She asks nonchalantly, but her tone is softer when she notices he hasn’t responded.

 

Connor’s eyes are ingrained to the screen, as he stands in this immobile posture. An immutable picture, as motionless as a static image, seeming like an eternal being crafted by the purest art. Stilling like he hasn’t even heard her in the first place.

 

“What’s bothering you?” She whispers quietly, looking over his shoulder.

 

The deviant gets a firmer grip over reality, his grasp so strong the repercussion could make him dizzy. His mind going in blurry territory, as his thoughts race against his synthetic skull while he thinks about the outcomes. 

 

The possibilities.

 

“There’s no more data inside the register anymore. Not a single name or even the ghost of an imprint in the record that could determine who would have liberated or activated the androids.” Connor explains as he recoils from the table but still glances at the screen. “The remaining impressions has been completely wiped out. It seems like someone just hacked the terminal and erased the lasting vestiges in the log.”

 

His lips part as his head shakes in bewilderment. Shrugging just slightly before the fatality of the situation. There’s nothing left. No more leads to follows to find out what could have happened in here.

 

Connor is so confused, he doesn’t even register when North reaches back to him. Doesn’t acknowledge her as she touches his arm. He can’t stop thinking about this. Can’t help but focus over the matter, even if he lost himself in the process.

 

North gets in contact with Markus again, worry increasing the hardness of her features.

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _Connor just checked the terminal. He found nothing about the androids that were imprisoned in here. Everything has been erased from the central memory. We don’t have any leads left as to who has done this to our people._

 

She sighs as their leader finally reaches out to her, after a while. The silence that has been stretching between them only seems to weight heavier than before.

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _Damnit…. I’m sorry North. If I had known the warehouse would have been empty, I wouldn’t have sent you in here._

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _It’s not your fault, Markus. Now we know there’s something going on with the deactivated androids. So, you have to be careful with the next facilities._

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _We will be, I promise._

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _Good. And I swear to rA9… If I find out who had done this, I’ll personally take care of their funerals since I would make them dig their own grave and beg for any mercy left in me._

 

A soft chuckle echoes in her mind as her lips stretch into a mischievous smirk. She wants revenge over the one who has done this, but at the same time she doesn’t know anything about what has happened. She could only suspect and elaborate hypotheses about the reasons behind the empty warehouse.

 

Are the androids freed now? Are they lost outside and alone? Are they held captives somewhere else? Have they been forced into slavery to another extent?

 

Her ignorance on the matter makes her grit her teeth.

 

The next second Connor is pacing into the control room, talking aloud, establishing his own hypotheses. Contemplating the issues and the outcomes. Evaluating the possibilities, estimating a plan.

 

He stops dead in his tracks, realization dawning over him.

 

“Wait… There are very few people with these kinds of capabilities, but I know where we can begin our researches.”

 

North glances his way, lifting one of her eyebrows. And just as she’s about to interject to capture his attention, the other deviant turns toward her. His irises lighting up, as a spark ignites in his bright lenses when he looks at North.

 

She immediately knows what he has in mind.

 

“Oh no.” She laughs nervously. “Out of the question. I’m not going in there.”

 

“Please North. This is our best lead for now.” He pleads with his puppy eyes. “Plus, Markus and Simon are not even at their assigned warehouse yet, so we could easily get inside the tower in no time and check the premises by ourselves.”

 

He’s right and she knows it.

 

But she can’t help but apprehend the potential visit to Cyberlife Tower. Even if the building is abandoned by humans, she’s afraid to find something she’ll not like once inside.

 

Too many prototypes in here.

 

Too many secrets.

 

She sighs, tilting her head to the side. She has already made up her mind. And the pleading gaze Connor is offering is not the reason why she finally cracks and accepts to join him. At all.

 

“Fine… But let me inform Markus beforehand.”

 

Connor nods and waits patiently in a corner of the room, while North reaches to their leader for the third time.

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _Just so you know, there’s a chance we could find a potential lead._

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _Really?_

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _Yeah, but we would have to go to the Cyberlife Tower for that._

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _… Well, shit... You’re sure you want to go inside? Why don’t you wait for us? So that we can all go. Just in case you’re not feeling alr-_

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _Don’t worry, it’ll do. We have some time left after all and I’m not staying in here for any longer. Besides, if there is someone in our way, I’ll kick them so hard they won’t be recognizable anymore._

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _Okay. Just be careful, then. And do not harm yourself, please. Tell Connor to take care of you. I don’t want to find you in pieces._

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _Yeah, yeah, I know you don’t. But I can take care of myself just fine and I’m sure I would be the one to save Connor’s ass if needed to._

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _Who knows, I wouldn’t bet, ahaha. Anyway, you’ll probably get there at the time we arrive at our attributed facility. So I’ll tell you if we come across something. In the meantime, I’ll leave you to it. Keep us updated._

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _You too._

 

And then the connection is suspended. No more voices echoing inside of her head as she turns toward Connor. A distinct smirk stretching her features while she blinks slowly. Walking backwards, without tearing herself away from the sight of her friend.  

 

“Hurry boy. Let’s go now!”

 

Connor smiles back and laughs when she winks at him before turning on her heels and heading back to exit the facility. And in an impulse, the deviant pushes on his weight to detach himself from the wall and follows the other leader toward the entrance.

 

When they arrive in front of the Tower, Connor gets a connection request from Simon.

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _Yes, Simon? What is it?_

 

 **//** **PL600** #501 743 923 : _Markus told me about your findings. And you will not believe it, but we just got inside of the warehouse and it was full of deactivated androids! But I still don’t know why or how those inside of the other facility could have been gone just like that..._

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _I strongly believe someone outside of the Cyberlife staff, or the warehouse engineers have done this since there was not a single log left anymore. But I doubt the androids inside of your facility know more than us about the subject._

 

 **//** **PL600** #501 743 923 : _I don’t think so but I can’t really tell. Markus is currently in the process to activate all of them and it will take a while. In the meantime, if you want, I can check the terminal in here. Find out if there are any indexes remaining._

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _It would be very helpful. Thanks, Simon._

 

 **//** **PL600** #501 743 923 : _Please, do not thank me. It’s a pleasure to lend a hand._

 

Connor smiles genuinely, as North glances at him. Smirking slightly to her friend when they eventually enter the building. He informs her about what the others had found for the moment and she nods, acknowledging the news.

 

It’s dim inside, but their lenses adjust to the lack of proper light. Neons pale glow are fluctuating as they adventure further inside of the tower. Searching anything out of the ordinary at any levels. 

 

Simon reaches out to Connor, a few minutes later.

 

 **//** **PL600** #501 743 923 : _I find something. There’s a name that stands out a lot on the register. My guess is that this warehouse was supervised or even monitored by this person. The name is Bhanu Singh and it was one of the directors in the R &D division if I’m correct. Since you’re inside of the tower, you could probably check his office. It’s on the sublevel forty-six._

 

 **//** **RK800** #313 248 317 **\- 51** : _Thank you for the information! We’re heading to this floor right now. I’ll contact you later._

 

 **//** **PL600** #501 743 923 : _Okay, be safe._

 

Connor and North take the stairs and run until they attain the right floor. They go along the huge corridor, scanning for the right name on the doors. Frantic in their movements as they are eager to find the office.

 

This is the co-leader who finds it first and opens the door for the other deviant. As they enter, Connor spots a computer against a wall but doesn’t reach out for it directly.

 

He scrutinizes the room, takes in the lack of decoration and evaluates the more fitting profile that could be corresponding to the director of the research and development division. He estimates where the information they are looking for are supposedly hidden.

 

His first guess is that there is a vault embedded in an adjacent room.

 

And after he scans the desk and hacks the computer, while North goes through the lockers and compartments inside of the room, Connor stumbles upon a security code and a key.

 

Grasping at the cold texture of the metal against his skin after he touches it, he examines the indentations ornating the key. Lifting his head when North calls his name after she finds the panel that is connected to the hidden trap leading into another room. 

 

Approaching the lock, Connor exhales sharply before inserting the key. He pushes the numerals over the buttons to type the security code. A lump in his throat as he recoils, glancing at North one last time.

 

She nods slightly but firmly and lifts her trembling hand to put it above Connor’s. They turn the key inside of the lock together.

 

The door disappears and the room is revealed.

 

What they find inside is no more helpful than what they would have thought. It’s piles of paper, scribbled notes hanging on the walls, stickers here and there with symbols written all over. It’s indecipherable.

 

Folders are branded by a stamp and the logic implies that there is unfinished business for a product or a project created by the company. A map hangs on a wall, with some districts covered in black ink, while other sectors are just blanked. There are coordinates carved into the texture of a piece of furniture but it’s illegible.  

 

Connor squints, brows furrow as he scrutinizes the map, noticing the patterns over it. The way the black spots mean a specific thing, and how the white ones indicate another aspect. Something he just can’t quite put his finger on for now, when North gets a call from Markus. His voice is tainted with trepidation.

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _North, I know where the missing androids are..._

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _What? Where are they?_

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _I just got a call from Josh. He had witnessed the arrival of a bunch of androids to Jericho in our absence. And I checked with Simon while he was going through the terminal. Your warehouse was a facility production of the GJ500 series. The androids that just show up to Jericho are from the very same model._

 

North’s eyes are wide open as her lips part. She turns her attention to Connor, her gaze lingering over the outlines of his frame. The former hunter recoils from the map as a piece of the puzzle in his mind seems to be put into place.

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _What the fuck… So you mean, those are the androids we were supposed to liberate?_

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _I assume, yes. But there’s more than that._

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _What else?_

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _Josh talked with them and asked questions about their release. They didn’t know anything but one of them said he was aware of a presence in his mind, even though he pretends the person wasn’t even there in the facility. Either way, he claims he knows the identity of their some kind of a savior._

 

Connor stills suddenly, as the realization strikes on him again. The android exhales silently, lips parted as he wraps his mind around the reality he just gets acquainted with. Being aware of this substantial information, he turns around, facing North. 

 

Searching her frantic gaze as she looks back at him.

 

“I think I know who has freed the androids.”

 

She murmurs slowly and quietly to Connor to wait a second, as Markus starts to explain who is the unknown savior and outsider ally. But the former deviant hunter is too caught up in the moment to stop right now.

 

The information echoes in her mind, as much as it reverberates against her eardrum. The two of them, stating the truth at the same time. The fatality of it all, crashing over her, as she eventually becomes aware of the reality of the foreigner identity.

 

His name, only a whisper on her lips as it rolls over her tongue.

 

“Elijah Kamski…”

 

. . .

 

The night is settling down.

 

The bright admixture of colors in the sky disappearing behind the thick clouds as a pale grey veil permeates the landscape. A sallow glow emanating from the stars as they start to ornate the firmament. The halo of the moon so pale it barely impregnates the area surrounding the celestial body.

 

The weather above the scenery, an adumbration of the impending storm hanging in the air. Too intense like a sweltering weight burdening the already heavy and charged atmosphere. 

 

A cold breeze stroking the naked branches covered in snow. A few flakes twirling all around, before they fall on the ground. One of the structured pattern composing the snow caressing the skin exposed in a soft motion, the texture too delicate like a rose petal.

 

A giggle escapes the parted lips, as a smile graces her face. Her features stretched into an amused expression. Joy permeating her figure, happiness lingering on the aura that surrounds her.

 

Chloe tucks a stray of blonde hair right behind her ear as the wind’s still caressing her skin. The breeze getting in her hair, moving them softly, as much as it slithers in between the fur of the dog she’s petting.

 

Her dog.

 

An Alaskan Malamute, a young one. So dynamic, and vigorous. Full of life. And Chloe loves him with all her synthetic heart. The emotions she’s perceiving for the pet are beyond everything she has ever felt in her life.

 

Every time she’s near him, a spark shines in her eyes. The lustrous glow making her irises glazing. When she thinks of him, a comfortable warm spreads inside of her, right under her frame. 

 

The dog lifts his head in a hurry as a yap echoes all around. The noise reverberating against her eardrum before it faints. But the hatched sound is familiar to Chloe, so she just smiles fondly while looking at her pet.

 

“Well boy, who is this?” She spoils the animal, stroking his head as he stands up, his tail wiggling when a shadow gets out of the iced forest nearby the lake. “Don’t scare her by jumping on her, okay?” Chloe giggles while tugging her dog against her, whispering in his ear to calm him down. “She’s healing, remember?”

 

The blurred figure gets more and more distinct as it approaches the two of them. Its frame contrasting with the landscape and soon, the form is near. The fur just in reach, for Chloe to caress it.

 

She releases her dog and pets the other animal that has just arrived.

 

A beautiful but weakened and recovering white fox.

 

The animal was frightened, a long time ago. The first day she came in here, she was still a wild and wounded beast. But now, since she has approached the modern villa for a while, and let the human and the android get close to her, she has let her guard down.

 

To the point of them being able to touch her fur, pet her behind her ear, while they had been taking care of her at the time. And now, she has gone so soft on them. 

 

And Chloe can’t help but be fond of the fox in return.

 

“Hello, sweetie.” She smiles at the little beast, stroking her fur in a soft gesture. “You look well today.”

 

The animal yaps softly at her, leaning into the touch while rolling over, onto her side. Offering her flanks to the android and the dog as he sniffs at her belly. The sound that escapes the fox afterward has Chloe lingering in euphory.

 

She calms down a while after that, but the scene is still playing inside of her mind. A sweet memory she’s sure she will cherish for eternity.

 

A quiet sigh elevates into the atmosphere, as Chloe lifts her head. Her eyes focusing on the firmament after she takes her gaze away from the pets. She stares at the sky for a long time, forgetting about the rest of the world for the moment.

 

But in her mind, her thoughts are racing. Her programs are calculating. Her systems are processing. About what’s next to come. About the work they have to do.

 

Everything has been almost ready at the finished line. But nothing has really been over at the same time.

 

The night permeates the chill ambiance and covers the landscape with its dark veil when Chloe decides to go back home and moves again.

 

A firm exhale escapes her lips as she gets up. Dusting the snow from her clothes, arranging her hair again into another ponytail. Her voice echoes all around as she calls the two animals, a smile lingering in her tone.

 

“We should go inside, lovelies.”

 

Heading back toward the villa, she climbs the stairs to get on the terrace, as the pets follow her. The soft pads of their feet and paws reverberate against her artificial eardrum.

 

Once in front of the bay window, she opens it slowly and bends forward. Her gesture is a bit sharp as she rapidly catches the third animal of the house that has tried to escape, the sleek fur sliding against her palms while she lifts the otter at eye-level.

 

“Well honey, you tried to sneak out on us?” She kisses the top of her head. “You know you’re not allowed to go outside.”

 

Craddling the third pet in her arms, and after the fox and her dog has gone inside, Chloe enters the villa and closes the glass window behind her. Caressing the smooth fur and embracing the otter tenderly, she heads directly toward the workshop.

 

Knocking on the cold texture of the dark door, she opens it slowly after a low noise has allowed her to come. A little sound emanates from Elijah’s lips as he’s concentrated on a huge terminal.

 

He’s hunched over his bureau, irises lost on the screen of the large computer. Pupils dilated as he’s absorbing the data. The reflection of the screen shines over his glasses.

 

His breath is catching in his throat before it slips past his teeth. His tongue clicks against his delicate palate before a grunt elevates into the atmosphere. He mumbles to himself into the otherwise silent room. 

 

The former CEO moves slightly, adjusting his stance. He puts one of his legs under him, the other one staying on the ground. It twitches from time to time, in a rapid motion, emphasizing his febrility.

 

He changes the tab, opening a new one with a flick of his index finger. He goes through it as a pale blue halo emanates from the scars on his knuckles. 

 

Chloe notices the cup of tea he has half-emptied, but not touched since then.

 

The beverage is cold now.

 

She sighs, entering further inside the office. She passes behind Elijah to look over his shoulder. She scrutinizes the flux of information showing on the screen, and glances at a video feed, playing on the background.

 

The images displaying pick her interest as she contemplates the scenery on the tape. The inside of a facility, full of androids opening their eyes for the first time. Synthetic beings newly activated and to whom life itself has been granted.

 

A recognizable figure stands out in the entirety of the footage.

 

“Is that…?” She begins as one of her eyebrows swifts upward.

 

“Yes, it is.” Elijah sighs quietly.

 

He sounds a bit tense, and Chloe glances quickly at him for a second before resuming to the recording. She smiles a bit at the display showing in the video capture, before straightening again.

 

“Seems like the wind has been taken out of the sails.”

 

Elijah rolls his eyes and shrugs, before resuming his task. He types a few lines of code on his computer and stops right after. Fingers hovering above his keyboard, stilling completely for a second.

 

His voice tinted with a malicious tone echoes all around as one of his hand strokes the screen to scroll through a file.

 

“On the contrary, my dear.” Elijah breathes as a smile graces his lips. 

 

He doesn’t mention anything else, but Chloe understands the implication of the words he keeps untold. His cryptid aspect getting the best of him at every given time. And the blonde android is used to it by now.

 

After all these years.

 

Chloe pets the animal in her arms in an automatic gesture, her motion like a reflex, before she snaps back to reality. Her lenses scan the terminal where Elijah is now focused on finalizing a software. 

 

Another video feed is showing on the background.

 

She hums thoughtfully, noticing the emptiness of the facility. With a silent exhale, the blonde android interacts with the application that performs the overview of the surveillance videos. She connects herself to the device and digs further inside. Hacking the private canal linked to the security system of the warehouses, owned by Cyberlife.  

 

Checking everything all by herself.

 

Chloe contemplates the advancement of their project. Scrutinizing all the footage, image by image. She witnesses what has already been done by Elijah, and estimates what needs to be taken care of.

 

There’s too many things to do.

 

And not much enough time.

 

The android ends the connection when Elijah growls again. He is almost done refining the software, but something is bothering him. He keeps checking a video feed, his sighs getting more and more loud. His breath is sharp and chaotic. He’s on edge.

 

Chloe can tell.

 

And she also knows what to do to help him calm down.

 

She steps forward and tangles her hand in his hair. She strokes it a few time before she slips her palm in front of him, pushing slightly at his forehead to make him lean backward.

 

Elijah is compliant under her touch and lets himself be guided by the blonde android.

 

Chloe recoils softly and simply puts the otter on his lap. The animal squeals when drops on the man’s legs and claws at his chest. Searching for a contact with his skin, the otter scratch at the fabric of his clothes to catch his attention.

 

Elijah lets his gaze fall over her. He contemplates her frail silhouette, the thin outlines of her frame as she wriggles above his hoodie. His irises shine a bright sparkle of light at the sight of her.

 

His smile illuminates the room as it blooms on his face. His features stretching into a tender expression. His figure going soft immediately, the contortion in his muscles alleviating all of a sudden.

 

His hand caresses the head and the neck of the otter in a delicate and careful gesture.

 

“Hey, beautiful.” He exhales gently. “You always make me so damn sensitive. How do you manage to achieve this, hm?” Elijah mutters as he cradles her, petting the furry head in a motion imbued with affection.

 

The otter squeals again, but in a less imploring manner this time. She leans into the touch, catching Elijah’s fingers between her paws, scratching under her neck with his nails.

 

She’s too smart and this has Elijah snorting while Chloe smiles tenderly at the scenery.

 

He stays like this for some time, petting the small animal on his lap. Taking her in his palms to play with her. Booping their noses together with a laugh on his lips. The sound echoing against his ribcage until it reverberates into the atmosphere.

 

But eventually, the fatality of the reality comes crashing down on them again.

 

Like a glass that shatters into a myriad of fragments. Like a picture that is shredding into shards of papers. Like smoke that is passing through scratched fingers. Like ashes covering the scars ornating burned skin.

 

An alert pops up on the screen as they all turn towards it. Staring at the message written over all of the tabs.

 

**_ STATUS :** **_COMPLETE._ **

**DEVELOPMENT :** **_DONE._ **

**UPLOAD :** **_DONE._ **

**PROCESSING :** **_PENDING..._ **

 

The software is now completely done and thus ready to be used.

 

The urgency is implied by the words depicted. It has the both of them stilling into an immuable stance as they process the situation. And estimates the continuation.

 

Elijah puts the otter down on the floor and stands up abruptly. Going wild around his atelier, moving some implements and devices into another place. He’s lost again, into his own mind but not only. And this time, he’s not alone.

 

“Chloe, brace yourself.” He puffs while searching for his stuff into his own chaotic mess. “We have work to do.”

 

Chloe nods rapidly and hurries back to exit the atelier. She lets Elijah prepares himself and goes to another room. She goes in the garage to dispense the material and equipment they will need tonight.

 

She proceeds carefully, as trepidation crackles under her shell. Her frame trembling slightly because of the apprehension. Her skin tenses surreptitiously as agitation waves over her.

 

But it’s nothing compared to the excitement and effervescence she’s perceiving. So low and little compared to the exhilaration she’s sensing because of the feeling of the thrill.

 

The nocturnal ambiance sending a shiver running down on her metallic spine.

 

It's time.

 

. . .

 

It’s just a few seconds before midnight.

 

The moon is barely visible into the night, as thick clouds glide along the sky. The stars are invisible to the naked eye, hidden behind the snow haze. Flakes are still falling down and covering the landscape as the wind makes them twirling around.

 

It’s so quiet, despite the whistle of the breeze, as the silence lingers in the atmosphere.

 

Outside, not a single sound as they stand still, waiting in the dark. The only source of light being the lamp posts along the road. The radiance flickering between the spaces of the winds gusts. 

 

But inside, it’s chaos. Too many noises, too many voices echoing in their artificial skull. Too much information circulating between them as they all share the same connection. Their synthesized conversation being more chaotic than serene.

 

North is roaring, her voice the loudest above them all. She’s trembling surreptitiously as rage explodes inside of her. The outburst burning under her shell while she tries to keep her frame for wavering.

 

She’s furious about everything, and no one is listening to her. They all want answers, but she just wants revenge. Over the man that has taken the liberty to liberate the deactivated androids without consulting the leaders of the newly free nation.

 

He has always been playing god, even though he has abandoned the entirety of them in the past. He has left them all alone. And now, he dares to appear as a savior with all the disinterested act, by freeing their people, although it has not been his call to make.

 

Kamski seems to have lend a hand, an invisible one in their direction, but she’s not ready and certainly not okay to reach back. She doesn’t trust him, and she’s sure she never will.

 

All of them are just talking, talking and talking inside of her head. Again and again. Elaborating hypotheses, raising questions, estimating possibilities as to why their creator has done this. She doesn’t know his scheme, his backup or hidden plan, but she’s certain he has one. That’s one of the primary reason as to why she can’t put her faith in him. The other main explanation is that he’s human, and thus, cannot be trusted by definition.

 

And the other ones are too blind to just see the dark and twisted aura that surrounds the man. Too senseless to perceive the shadows and the demons following behind him. The clouds of his notoriety too thick and suffocating to look through it all.

 

Just thinking about him infuriates her, making her fumes and almost losing her temper.

 

The pad of her fingers is closing on her palms, as her hands turn into fists by her side. The artificial skin rasping at the fabric of her clothes, against her legs. Her knuckles threatening to crack under the pressure exerted.

 

Her LED pulses a bright red.

 

She wants to scream and mute them to linger on her rage. The emotion too strong to let it go with just some honeyed and soft words. They can’t see, but it’s worse for her because she can’t hear the desperate hope in their voices.

 

Only perceive naivety and innocence. 

 

And it kills her, like venom filtering through her wires to poison her. A virus getting under her frame and into her system to shuts her down once and for all.

 

Realizing this, has her punching the nearest lamp post with one of her fists. As it collides with the metallic structure, the texture over her hand retracts and reappears in a frantic movement.

 

She lets a grunt escape her gritted teeth.

 

The sound of the impact takes Connor away from his thoughts, as he searches for her gaze. His attention focused on her stretched features while he lingers on her face. Reaching for her arm, before she tries again.

 

But she doesn’t.

 

North contemplates her hand, sparkle of blue and white painting her frame as the skin keeps appearing and disappearing. She acknowledges the contact of Connor’s palm on her arm, but doesn’t nudges him or yell at him to get lost.

 

She’s starting to take back control over her rage. Trying to use it efficiently and wisely. And right now, there’s just one thing she has in mind. One idea that echoes in her head, crashing against her skull.

 

They all want answers from Kamski, and she wants to punch him hard.

 

She’s ready to combine both.

 

By going to his location and making him answer her questions. In between the hits and kicks she will unleash on him. All of her fury dropping over the man, like a malediction from a mightiest being from mythology.

 

She doesn’t care if he’s their creator.

 

He’s no one to her right now.

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _STOP! ALL OF YOU! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!_

 

A silence lingers after her outburst, as Connor lets go of her arm while his hand brushes against the fabric of her clothes. He stares at her with wide eyes, seeming almost shocked at her abrupt expressivity. 

 

Static echoes in their mind as no one dares to break the thick silence between them.

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _I’m done with this. You all want answers? Just go get them instead of guessing his intentions._

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _North, we can’t do that…_

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _YES, WE CAN!_

 

 **//** **RK200** #684 842 971 : _We don’t have time right now, North. We have to get back to Jericho and find a new strategy for th-_

 

 **//** **WR400** #641 790 831 : _You know what? Stop making excuses and just go home. I’ll do it myself since no one wants to confront this human garbage. I’ll make him talk and you will see I was right. You’ll understand he’s not redeemable nor trustable._

 

And with that, the cuts the connection on her side. Her mind going silent with white noise, static echoing all around inside of her skull.

 

In an impulse, North throws her other hand towards the lamp post to unburden the weight of her rage. But Connor soars between the metallic structure and her fist. The collision reverberating over his frame as the impact breaks a part of his shell.

 

North tries to recoil, avoiding his eyes, but he takes her wrist in his hand. His fingers clutching at her skin, tugging her close as he searches her gaze. Irises taking in the angry sight of her.

 

“Stop hurting yourself.”

 

She hums disapprovingly, a huff lingering on her tone, as a sigh escapes her lips. She clicks her tongue on her palate, her pupils tainted with wrath. She still can’t bear to look at him.

 

“Leave me alone.”

 

“I can’t.” Connor sighs and the grip he exerts over her wrist lessen. “You’ll just do it again.”

 

He’s right and she knows it. For the second time this night, he has seen past her, through her, and she has let him do it. She doesn’t like any of this. 

 

She doesn’t like this situation at all. 

 

“Let go of me.” She scowls while turning her head in his direction, lips pursed as she frowns. “And I will stop.”

 

Connor anchors his irises on her own, scrutinizing her with a cold glare despite his caring side lingering behind. His voice is tinted with blame as he accuses her, leaning his head towards North.

 

“You’re aware I am unable to trust you on this one.” He scolds. “I know you North. I really do.” His tone is getting a lesser harsh, as it has lost a part of the admonishment now. “When it comes to that, you’re being self-destructive. Exactly like I am.” His grip on her skin is more of an anchor to not let himself get lost in the storm that crashes over him. “I know it hurts, but don’t let it consumes you. And please. Don’t lose yourself in the process.”

 

His lips part as he keeps his eyes on her. His irises getting bland and dull from the memories echoing in his mind. He has lost so much while being still a machine. He has been torn in two. His spirit has broken into a myriad of fragments only to be built up and back again. His beliefs have never been his own. He was a foreigner in his own mind. A stranger in his own body.

 

And he can’t bear the idea that North has been confronted to so many demons similar to his, that she now feels exactly like she has been living in the same hell as him. 

 

She deserves the world and so much better.

 

And all she has right now is this rage that burns inside of her. That crackles under her frame as everything remaining turns into ashes. Until all that’s left is nothing more than ruins of herself.

 

North can’t tear her eyes away, as she perceives the emotion lingering in Connor’s irises. He can’t recoil as he opens himself without having to retract his synthetic skin. Can’t avoid the flux of sensations spreading inside of her and the warm sentiment embracing her entrails, despite the lack of verbal communication.

  
Silence is the only language they can understand at this right instant.

 

And after a long time, she finally gets a stronger grip over herself. The tension on her skin loosening, as her posture gets composed. 

 

She doesn’t even have to whisper to him that she will try, Connor knows. And he eventually let go of her wrist, recoiling and taking a step to the side. He scans the damage on his chest, but it’s nothing critical.

 

“You’re lucky I don’t need any immediate repair.” The former hunter says, only half joking.

 

North snorts while crossing her arms on her chest, putting her weight on one of her leg as she leans slightly backward.

 

“Damn right, I am.” She smiles with no mirth in her eyes before it falters as a sheepish murmur escapes her lips. “I’m sorry, Connor.”

 

He waves in her direction to evict the problem, offering a small grin. He adjusts his tie once more and puts his hand in his pocket. Retrieving the coin he takes everywhere he goes, to fidget with it. His LED twirls yellow as he seems to evaluate something.

 

“You said you wanted to go to Kamski’s place, right?” He asks even though it’s a rhetorical question. “It’s past midnight. It’s not an appropriate time to come bursting into his villa.” Connor states with a little smile.

 

North has her head turned to the ground and she has been chewing on her lips before she lifts it up again. Searching for her friend’s gaze, taking in the sight of him, as his frame contrasts with the landscape in the background.

 

“I can’t afford another fight with the other ones.” She shakes her head while a bitter whisper dies on her lips. “We need answers, and we need them now. I can’t just wait in a corner until there’s an occasion for us to ask him what we want.” A sigh escapes her throat. “We have to make our own opportunities by ourselves.”

 

Connor exhales quietly at that and nods silently. He understands the necessity of getting answers, especially when their people are out in the wild, like tonight. They need to be coordinated, to avoid any similar situation another time in the future. All of them having to work together to ensure it does not happen again.

 

Even if it includes a cryptic man lingering in the shadow.

 

“I’ll go with you.”

 

And with that, they stay under the lamp post, into a somewhat comfortable and appropriate silence, waiting for their autonomous cab. The one they have called right after leaving Cyberlife Tower, some minutes ago. It arrives not so long after and they get inside. Settling themselves into the backseat as the cab returns back on the road.

 

The ride is silent, despite the roar of the car that disrupts the absence of any noise. There’s no one on the road despite them. They are all alone on the dark route. And their drive to the villa shortens as the distance between their previous location and the next one abridges. 

 

They arrive near the villa a while after that and stumble out of the car. They hear the engine roars another time and in a blink of an eye, the cab is gone. Leaving the two of them alone, not so far away from the huge structure.

 

Connor heads toward the entrance and North exhales abruptly as she steps behind to follow him. They feet leaving marks and holes into the white veil of flakes covering the ground. A breeze caressing their frame until they reach the path leading to the front door. 

 

There’s another car parked nearby. A black and mat one, an expensive kind of purchase. But the luxury is no stranger to its wealthy owner. The trunk is open, and the engine is running as the headlights are already on.

 

Connor frowns and stops to take a look at the vehicle. North almost bumping into his shoulder before she strays aside. Lifting one of her eyebrows as she takes in the sight of the abandoned car. 

 

Or not so abandoned.

 

A soft noise elevates all around and captures their attention as they turn their head in a quick motion, albeit a bit sharp toward the front door. Their eyes taking in the outlines of a silhouette emerging from the villa. The frame covered in black is contrasting with the whiteness of the flakes on the ground.

 

The lights are still on in the entrance hall as the figure seeming like a shadow stands out of the aperture. Until it straightens like an immobile sculpture. Like a portrait conveying the timeless beauty of art itself. Frozen in a stagnant atmosphere, as icy blue eyes lingers on them.

 

Elijah Kamski’s own irises taking in the sight of the two androids caught on his property.

 

The man blinks but doesn’t move an inch despite being heavily loaded. A bag is over his shoulder, a crate between his hip and elbow and a storage case at his feet whose handle is being grasped at by the palm of his hand.

 

His fingers are clutching hard, the knuckles going white under the pressure exerted. 

 

He glares at them, his eyelids closing slightly but not entirely, and North frowns in response, ready to jump and unleash her tamed fury over him.

 

Connor’s calmer temper than hers allows him to stay focused on the situation. His lips part as he scans the environment around the former CEO. The containers he’s carrying seeming to be heavy but he can’t see through them, just estimates their approximate weights.

 

He scrutinizes the man instead, blinking slowly as his irises linger over the outlines of his frame. There are traces of hair and furs on his clothes. Entertwined with the fabric and the texture of his dark hoodie.

 

Time has seems to stop into the silent ambiance lingering in there.

 

Kamski’s as static as a statue and he doesn’t speak either. Mute into the silence, embracing it, savoring it, worshipping it almost. No one is daring to break this soundless aura that hangs in the air. The absence of the echo of their voices, a weight permeating the suffocating atmosphere.

 

“It’s settled. They’re all inside.”

 

A sharp noise elevates from inside the structure, as another figure storms out of the villa. A much thinner frame and lighter hair contrasting in the landscape. All dressed in black too, but less charged than the man.

 

“And we have everything packed and ready for the transportat-” Chloe starts as she finally passes through the entrance and notices the scene. “Oh.”

 

North glances at Chloe the moment she stops walking, her irises scrutinizing the blonde android. She frowns at the bags and small cases she’s carrying, pursing her lips as her eyes return to Kamski.

 

The man still hasn’t moved.

 

Connor stays silent as he contemplates Chloe from over the distance. Memories of another day displaying on his mind. The sorrow imbuing his thoughts while he remembers every aspect of this past he desperately wants to forget. Regret burning him from the inside out as it constricts his throat and coats his tongue.

 

She doesn’t even take advantage of his torment to snarl at them and hurry the trespassers to just go away.

 

Chloe frowns slightly as she runs a scan over them. Estimating the outcomes of this in an instant. Contemplating the possibilities emanating from the moment. There’s too many fights and shouting in a lot of them. And the better approach seems to be already out of reach considering they are all still immobile.

 

And the more they wait, the more time they are all losing. 

 

So she settles for another strategy. A kind of peace offering. A proposition, a hand in their direction. Just for them to grab at if they ever wanted to.

 

Chloe exhales brusquely, blinking slowly while she snaps back to reality. Her LED twirling yellow for a solid second before her features stretch into a firmer expression. Her voice echoing around, lingering on the air before it gets muffled by the wind.

 

“Care to join us?” She asks in a gentle and hopeful tone. “We might need some help.”

 

Kamski snaps his eyes wide open. His lips parting slightly while he turns toward her in an brusque motion. A silent query burning his tongue. The other androids blink in confusion and glance between themselves before staring at the other ones with a bewildered gaze from North and an astonished one from Connor.

 

The only human in the vicinity is about to protest, but Chloe only lifts her hand to stop him for speaking at loud.

 

“Don’t say anything.” She interjects. “Just fill the trunk and we’ll go once it’s done.”

 

Chloe doesn’t wait for another second before she rounds him, approaching the car while avoiding the collision with the other two androids. They stare at her, almost in shocked, before recoiling to let her have a clearer path.

 

North elbows Connor in the ribs, leaning to his side to whisper in his ear as a smirk ornates her features.

 

“I like this one. She’s got the guts to cut him off.”

 

Connor snorts nervously and looks at Chloe, still stuffing the bags and cases into the trunk. North crossing her arms over her chest as she lets her irises linger on the blonde android. An appreciative expression stretching on her face.

 

Connor casts a glance at Kamski, who’s breathing abruptly, sighing sharply. The man gets a firmer grasp over the crates and storage case before he skirts them to get to his car. He doesn’t look at them for the rest of the loading as him and Chloe fill the trunk with their equipment.

 

Once they’re done, the blonde android stares in their direction.

 

“So? Are you coming, or not?”

 

Connor and North share a glance, lips parted as they estimate the outcomes. Calculating the risks and level of hazard, despite knowing nothing about what Chloe and Kamski are planning to do.

 

“Well…” The former hunter starts.

 

“Why should we come with the two of you? What are you planning? Dark shenanigans no one will know about?” North taunts at her as she lifts one of her eyebrows.

 

“You’ll be surprised.” Chloe chuckles as a smile appears on her lips. “But it’s actually not.”

 

“Hard to believe. It’s still not enough of a reason for us to follow you blindly into the unknown.” North stands her ground, responding in a sarcastic tone, albeit a bit amused.

 

“Aren’t you curious?” Chloe giggles before she turns back to the car.

 

And as she closes the trunk, Kamski crosses his arms over his chest. He stands by her side and stares their way with a seemingly cold glare.

 

“There’s a specific reason as to explain your presence in here. Otherwise, you wouldn’t even be standing in my property in the first place.” He finally says, frowning. “Considering you are not gone by now, I assume you’re here for an urgent matter. But you don’t seem to be about to shut down so it’s not personal or threatening. I do have my guesses on your attendance at this time, but you still haven’t told me anything.” Kamski states in a patronizing tone. “And since we cannot afford to lose time over this oh so pleasant and instructive conversation, as we have business to attends to that requires immediate care, it will only result in the two of you staying behind waiting for our return.” He sniffs disdainfully. “That means you basically came for nothing.” 

 

“Unless you get in the car right now.” Chloe rolls her eyes as she nudges Kamski slightly to cuts him off, before turning her attention back to the androids. “You know we are not your enemies. And I’m sure you came in here for the same reasons we’re about to leave.”

 

North frown deepens and Connor pinches his lips, restraining his too many questions bursting in his mind from escaping his synthesizers. He blinks slowly before leaning slightly to the side.

 

“That, we don’t know yet.” The brunette admits as a heavy sigh elevates all around afterward. “But for us to get what we came in here for, I suppose we would have to do something else in return. Meaning us being compelled to follow you tonight.”

 

“You can see it that way. But I suppose it will be more of a cooperation.” Chloe clarifies with a soft smile, cute and endearing.

 

Kamski mumbles under his breath at Chloe’s genuine answer.

 

“It seems we don’t really have a choice.” North almost snarls as untold reproaches linger in her voice.

 

“You do, actually. It’s up to you.” The blonde android assures them. “But don’t forget the clock is ticking and that now, you, as much as us, cannot afford to waste any more time.”

 

There’s a silence that stretches between them for some solid seconds, as the snow continues to fall down. Covering their frames with a white and thin veil, making just the one and only human trembles under the cold texture.

 

Time seeming to stops while Kamski and Chloe wait for their final answer.

 

Connor and North eventually come to an agreement in the secrecy of their shared connection.

  
“What do you need us for, then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL GUESS WHAT I HEADCANON FOR KAMSKI? A LOT OF PETS! (and also multiple scars from the past)
> 
> Anyway, if you have read all of it and got to the end in one piece, I would like to personally thank you.
> 
> I'm really fond of this chapter because it shows a softer side of "older" Elijah and that's what I was rooting for since the beginning of the story. + I also adore the complicity between North and Connor like... THEY'RE SO BFF LIKE THAT OMG. + And Chloe who had the balls to interject at Elijah and told him politely to shut up? Iconic. (okok I'll stop showing off, I'm sorry, I just headcanon this so much gzgzgz)
> 
> If you wanna talk about other headcanons or anything else, I would be happy to share a conversation with you about it! Come find me on my [Tumblr](http://coloraldreamx.tumblr.com/) or even on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/@Kt_Chup) :D
> 
> See you next time lovelies ♥


End file.
